The long and winding road Out of here
by Saifa aon
Summary: A.U. Sequel to Revenge is Sweet. The Brilbanian General Voldan is left stranded on ME after falling through a dimensional rip. He has temporarily lost his powers and has to find his way home but how? Please RnR. I dont own characters or plots from LotR
1. Chapter 1

Glorfindel had been trotting his horse through the trees when he saw the object fall from the canopy above. In fact, he was sure it had fallen from above the trees, somehow, as he had heard the screaming emanating from up high. He was unsure who it was. Perhaps the eagles had seen a thief and dropped him in to the forest knowing that that was where the Elf-Lord was. Perhaps he was a spy. Glorfindel felt anger rising, for perhaps the spy is working for the Dark Lord, sent to deter him from his quest. He wouldn't know until he investigated. He quietly slid from his horse and drew his sword from his scabbard held at his hip and gently stalked over to where the possible spy was lying on the floor. As he closed the gap, the fallen man lifted his head, and dazedly looked around. Just to keep the man in check, as he had no idea what he was capable of, Glorfindel rested the tip of his sword on the mans throat so it was touching his Adam's Apple. Then the head flopped again.

It was obvious that the man was unconscious, although it could just be a ploy to get him off guard and attack him. It was then that the Golden-haired Elf realised that the man wasn't armed. Surely a spy sent by the Dark Lord would be armed just in case. Most definitely be armed with a bow and arrow or throwing knives at the very least. He quickly looked above at the trees checking to see if there were any weapons snagged in the branches above. There wasn't. Though there was clear proof that the man had fallen through here, he hadn't exactly been discreet about it. Branches were bent and snapped, and there was a clear line straight through the canopy allowing a single thick beam of sunlight to show through. Glorfindel averted his gaze to the ground, scanning the area for weapons. Again there were none, none showing at least, there was just a pile of branches and leaves; again proof that the unconscious man had fallen through.

Then something caught his eye; a dollop of red on a green leaf. Crouching down he realised it was blood. He looked across to the man and saw more blood surrounding him. He then knew what he must do. In order to find where he was from and what he was doing here, he must clean him up and help him regain consciousness. He knelt down next to him and turned him over. The man was badly bruised on his face, and there were cuts – some deep, some shallow – but they were cuts none the less. The bruises resembled fist marks, a clear sign that this man had been in a fight recently. The cuts could mean the same but some could have been caused by the fall through the trees. Then there was the extremely noticeable wound on his torso, spreading from his right hip to his left shoulder and bleeding profusely. The strange thing was that there were no cuts on his clothes, apart from the fresh ones from the tugging branches. Glorfindel quickly looked the fallen man up and down; he was wearing Black silk breeches and a loosely fitting light grey tunic. Well that was what colour it was supposed to be. But it was fast turning to a deep crimson with the thickest colour in a gash that seared the garment in two. The Elf-Lord stood and ran to his horse and took a little satchel from his saddle-bag, then ran back to the dying man.

After a few hard minutes of trying to stem the bleeding in his chest, Glorfindel quickly tied some string to a needle and started stitching the wound. 'This is going to take along time.' He thought to himself. He had stitched about two inches yet already they were coming undone. 'This is a very bad wound indeed.' After about half an hour he was still only half way done.

"I don't have time for this!" He chided himself quietly.

"But I can't just leave him here."

"There are bigger matters than helping this man, he could be a spy."

"But he needs help; I cannot and will not leave him."

Glorfindel sighed extensively and carried on stitching the wound. After about another half hour, he had finally stitched up the wound, but had used a lot of his string to do it; the wound was so deep. He took some bandage from the satchel and cut it with a short knife, then tightly wrapped it around the man's torso. Glorfindel had noticed the amount of scars he had, some long some were short there was one on his back that was almost as long as the wound he had just stitched. He was also, Glorfindel found, well built, he looked too well built to be a spy. He looked to be a soldier. So what was he doing in a tree? Once he had tied off the bandage, he took the satchel back to his horse and while replacing it in the saddlebag, took out a spare tunic. The man's breeches should be alright for now. He just hoped that this tunic fit him. This man looked taller than him and was bigger built. He gently lifted the injured man on his white horse and walked him through the trees. The body slumped forward on the horse's neck. Glorfindel patted the horse on the nose in a soothing gesture and whispered to him. Asfaloth had been getting somewhat distressed at the fact there was another person other than his owner riding him. Glorfindel looked forward, a worried look covering his face. What would he do if he found Aragorn and the Hobbits, they would most likely be chased by the Black Riders, and he had already seen some of them galloping through the forest. He had no idea where the others were. The Ring-bearer would take priority in that situation.

* * *

He heard a very smooth light almost effeminate voice arguing with himself about whether to leave him to his fate or to help him. He could feel movement, a bobbing motion as if he was at sea but more violent. Then he heard a whisper. It was a soft tone, almost soothing, but what the voice was saying he couldn't decipher, it was in a language he had never heard before. There were also sounds of birds, and the sounds of forest animals. It reminded him of home, or kind of, some of the sounds he was hearing, some of the animals were different to the ones he had back on Brilbane. He willed for his eyes to open, willed to look around at the place he was in, but his eyes refused to obey. The sounds of the countryside were all about him: the wind blowing through the trees, the sound of leaves rustling as they touched each other, the insects on the ground chirping noisily. The General missed these sounds, the sound of home.

He had no idea where he was, or what time it was, according to his own time, he had no idea of the timescale of the place he was in. He didn't actually care at the minute, for he was in bliss, absolute bliss. No pain, just the senses of smell and hearing, and for the place he was it sounded beautiful. Voldan used his remaining useful senses and listened to the countryside, happily listening to the birds and the insects that reminded him so much of home. It was then that a horrible high pitched scream ruptured the air. All the birds and animals were obviously startled by this because of the noise, but it was worse for Voldan who had been listening intently. It felt like the stuff of nightmares, which made him sure that he was in a deep sleep.

* * *

Glorfindel shook when he heard the awful scream, looking over at the unconscious man whose face was now wrought with pain or distaste, possibly the latter, at such an awful noise. It was getting late and there was still no sign of the hobbits or the ranger he had been sent two look for two weeks earlier. He looked at the man again; his face was now once again a mask of peace and tranquillity. Unlike his own: one of worry. The only time they screeched like that was when they had found something, and they obviously had, and it was close. He looked back to the man with a look of regret on his face. He had to move quickly, and to do that he needed his horse. He gently lifted the unconscious man from the back of Asfaloth and laid him gently on the floor under a tree. Covering him up with a pile of fallen leaves to cover him from any evil doers around he mounted Asfaloth and shouted a command.

"Noro, beinil." (Run, beautiful one)

Asfaloth moved straight into the gallop, moving as quickly as his Elfish legs would carry him.

Voldan heard the leaves being shuffled, and lightly felt them being placed on top of him, then heard the unmistakeable noise of hooves trailing away. He wondered what had happened, where the person who had helped him was going. He listened intently again the noise of the woodland had changed, now there were the chirps of Nightjars and other nocturnal creatures. So judging by the noise, it was getting late. For the minute he just settled himself for the bliss that was unconsciousness.

* * *

Aragorn heard the hooves on the road, approaching hard and fast. A flicker of fear surged through him as the natural thoughts took over: 'Is it a Black Rider?' 'What if they see us?' 'What about the Hobbits, Frodo?' But then he started thinking rationally. He realised that the hooves were not that of Mordor horses, they were not heavy enough. These were other horse's hooves, light and swift. His thoughts were confirmed when the rider came into view. It was definitely not a Black Rider; one could almost say that it was a white rider such was the light that shone from back of the horse. He looked down and saw that the Hobbits were staring in awe at the newcomer, who was an elf. And not just any elf, he realised as he saw the face of the rider when he was closer. This was an Elf-Lord named Glorfindel.

"Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae govannen!"

"Le suilon, mellon."

Glorfindel looked at the Hobbits, examining each of them, a slight smile on his face at the greeting with them. Eventually his gaze fell upon the slumped figure on the back of a pony. The smile faded from his face to be replaced by a look of concern. With out a word he quickly made his way to the injured Hobbit. Aragorn was close behind him, the other Hobbits behind him. The four of them watched as the Elf gently and gracefully lifted the small one from the saddle and laid him on the floor.

"He is mortally wounded." Glorfindel stated.

"He has been stabbed by a Morgul blade" Aragorn said slowly, almost regretfully. Glorfindel looked up at him a look of understanding in his eyes.

"We need a leaf of the Athelas plant, Aragorn, it may not cure him but it may stem the poisoning a little while." Aragorn nodded then looked to Sam.

"You know the Athelas plant? We need it."

"Athelas? I'm afraid I've not heard of that, sir." Aragorn looked thoughtfully for a moment, and then clicked his fingers as he remembered the other name.

"Athelas, also known as Kingsfoil."

"Kingsfoil, oh that's a weed." At that they both set off in opposite directions both keeping low to help in their aid to find the weed. Meanwhile, The Elven lord was muttering short sentences in Elvish over Frodo's quivering and sweating body. He shook his head ruefully, seeing effects of the Dark Magic taking over: his skin growing pale and cold, his eyes glazing over. Soon he started muttering words that neither Hobbit or Elf understood, but Glorfindel knew the language.

"If Aragorn doesn't hurry with the Athelas plant, I'm afraid that Frodo will become alike to those who inflicted this upon him." He said looking up to the three Hobbits hovering around them anxiously.

"There was a small exertion of success as Sam found the plant they needed and hurried back to where Frodo lay in the tender arms of Glorfindel. Aragorn arrived a moment later then, reading the situation, paced over to Bill the Pony and took a pestle and mortar from the saddle-bag and went over to where Glorfindel knelt.

"Thank you," the Elf said then immediately set to crushing some of the leaves until they were no more than a paste in the mortar. He scooped it up in his fingers making sure he didn't lose any of the precious substance on the floor then gently rubbed it on the wound of the fallen Hobbit, who gave a shriek of pain as the paste started working immediately. "This is out of my hands as a healer, we must get him back to Elrond, to the Houses of Healing." Aragorn nodded his agreement as Glorfindel, who wouldn't have waited for a confirmation anyway, lifted Frodo up on the back of his horse, then he too jumped up, making the move look effortless along the way.

"Noro lim, Asfaloth, Noro lim!" He cried, as his horse pulled away heading straight into the gallop, followed by the angry voice of Sam.

"Where are you going! Those Wraiths are still out there!"

"There is nothing for us to do now, Sam." Aragorn said softly, resting a hand on the shoulder of the angry yet anxious Hobbit. "He is in safe hands now, Glorfindel will not allow any more harm come to your friend. Now come, we must go if we are to join them in Rivendell."

He took Bill by the reins and started leading him through the forest, sincerely hoping that he was right.

* * *

Glorfindel raced towards the Ford of Bruinen, meandering through the sparse trees. He knew there were at least four wraiths behind him, he had heard them. Where the other five were he didn't know. He kept Asfaloth running at the same speed, he knew that Mordor horses were the fastest of other horses but they could never compare to the speed of Elven bred horses. He was coming to the end of the woodland now. Then there were more screeches. Yet they came from up ahead somewhere. Then the source of the horrific noises came into view, as four Black riders came from the trees on both sides. The elf knew that they would come to the sides of him as they were moving diagonally forwards. He couldn't let them grasp the young Hobbit, he had to keep moving, and move faster; there is a time to run and a time to fight. He knew that, and this was the time to run, when he reached the Ford was the time to fight. He looked about him and saw the four newcomers were close at his flanks, one of them close enough to reach out. He had nearly clasped a claw like hand around Frodo's arm when Glorfindel screamed a command at Asfaloth.

"Noro lim, Asfaloth!"

His horse suddenly moved faster, therefore evading the groping hand of the Wraith, who screamed in reply to the Elf's actions. He knew that it was more or less straight now, all he had to do was navigate his way through the upcoming trees and he would be across the river and into the protection of Elrond. Glorfindel risked a look behind and saw as he feared; the Wraiths were closing the gap. He had to go faster. Asfaloth, sensing his predicament, sped up to try and outrun the Mordor horses that carried their horrible cargo.

He reached the trees, which were much denser than the others, but as he knew where he was going he kept Asfaloth at the same pace; swerving through the trees with ease and gracefully jumping over fallen branches and trunks. There wasn't far to go now until he reached the branches that were entwined to form a tunnel just wide enough for one horse to travel down. He looked behind; he had temporarily lost the riders whose horses weren't used to riding through these dense trees, especially not at speed. But it wouldn't take long for them to catch up so he couldn't stall just for a moment. Asfaloth didn't need telling, he kept the pace up and once the tunnel was in sight made a beeline towards it. Glorfindel risked another glance behind, still no sign of the Riders. There was brief darkness as he travelled through the tunnel then once out, it brightened up again. Now right in front of them was the fast flowing river that they needed to cross to make it to safety, it would be no problem especially for a horse, it only came up to their ankles. Glorfindel let out a sigh of relief, they were on the brink of safety, though he stayed cautious, all he needed to do was let his guard down for an instant and that could be it, it would be over, and so close to success. He dismounted then looked up at Frodo.

"You must ride to the other side, my friend, you will be safe there. The riders of Sauron cannot cross this river, it is protected." Frodo looked to be about to ask a question, but there was no time, he could hear the Riders coming and looking towards the tunnel he could see the wind blowing down showing that they definitely were approaching, and fast. "There is no time, Frodo, now you must go little one."

Frodo could do nothing but accept, especially when Glorfindel muttered a command in Elvish to Asfaloth, who started promptly trotting in the direction of the Bruinen.

"Wait, what about you? Why have you dismounted?"

"I will stay here and make sure it goes all goes as planned."

"What plan?"

"I will explain later, little one, now go there is not much time left!"

Asfaloth trotted through Loudwater and stopped at the other side just as the riders approached the near bank, 'Why have you stopped, Frodo?' Glorfindel thought. The Elf was out of sight of the Riders in his hiding place within the bushes near the bank. He heard the foremost rider; who was evidently their leader, the dread Witch-King of Angmar speak to the Hobbit, commanding him to give up the Ring. But to Glorfindel's amazement, the Hobbit drew his sword and held it aloft then shouted back.

"By Elbereth and Luthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!"

Glorfindel looked at the horses of his enemy, they were still nervous. He smiled at that, they would be reluctant to go in to the River which The Witch King would evidently do. Then, as Glorfindel thought, The leader of the Black Riders trotted his horse into the River and held up his hand. He looked at Frodo to see the effects, and he could see them clearly: his sword broke and Asfaloth reared. It looked like Frodo had trouble staying on his back. 'Hurry Elrond,' He thought, 'we have little time.' Lo and behold, as if the River had heard his thought, the waters grew shallow and an immediate roaring could he heard down the valley, as if there was a monster making its way up. The Elf-Lord used this new time to his advantage, drawing his sword and walking out of his hiding place. The Black Riders had no idea of his presence. Because the Ring was so close, they could think of nothing else.

As they entered the middle of the River the roaring grew louder. When Glorfindel looked downriver he could see a giant wall of water approaching, the head of which formed to show galloping horses. The Wraiths noticed it too and started backing up only to be confronted by another force. They saw the shining white light of the Elf-Lord and were frightened back into the River. Now they were trapped, there was no where else for them to go. The water hit them like a ram hitting a gate. If the force of the water didn't kill the horses, the water itself would. In a couple of seconds all the evil was washed away, though looking at Frodo he saw him fall from his horse. There was no way for him to cross yet; the water was still too deep and fast. But luckily he saw a group of elves coming down the road towards the fallen Hobbit, evidently sent by Lord Elrond, they gently picked him up and carried him on a stretcher back up the road, one of them waved at Glorfindel before leading Asfaloth back too. The Elf thought he should wait for Aragorn to catch up, it shouldn't be long now, so he sat down and rested his back against a nearby tree, able to breathe a sigh of relief at last.

* * *

When Aragorn finally turned up, it was getting late, though not so late that the world relied on the moons light to see. Glorfindel saw the Ranger pacing towards him. Though he didn't look as tireless as usual, he looked weary and his face was crossed with anxiety. To Glorfindel, it looked as if his face was trying to show its age. He would look better once he saw that Frodo was in expert hands. In his hands were the reins to his horse who looked mighty pleased to be here again. To the left of him, straggling a bit were the other three Hobbits that accompanied Frodo on his quest. They each looked more tired than Aragorn, but that was to be expected, they were not used to travelling as much as the Ranger, and for not being travellers, they had been in enough danger the last few months or so than any traveller would want to be in a lifetime. One Dark haired Hobbit in particular was clenching his stomach, which made the Golden haired Elf think that he had been wounded along the way here as he seemed fine when he had first met him. It turned out that he wasn't injured at all; Glorfindel didn't need the use of his Elven ears to hear the rumbling of his stomach. He tried to fight back a smile, but that was one battle the Elf was destined to lose as a smile ripped across his face from ear to ear. The others were laughing and smiling too.

"Ah, my friend, what news of Frodo do you bear to give us?"

"He is well my friend; he is recovering at a rapid rate, considering the wound he took."

"He's gonna be okay?" Sam asked with genuine delight in his eyes. Glorfindel took a thoughtful look at the fair haired Hobbit.

"That I cannot tell you, I haven't been to Imladris since I arrived with Frodo, I was waiting for you to arrive."

"So how do you know that Frodo is getting well?" Another Hobbit asked another fair haired one with a much slimmer build.

"Elrond sent an envoy down to tell me, but that was the only news I have received so far."

"Why didn't you go back?" Aragorn asked.

"I wanted to stay behind to ensure that you didn't get lost, édain." Glorfindel replied, to which Aragorn snorted, but resisted getting into an argument with him, so just smiled instead. "Besides, I could not cross while the water level was so high."

"Why was the water level high, was it a spring tide?" Sam asked, making Glorfindel stammer.

"W-well… You see…"

"We'll explain later." Aragorn intervened. Glorfindel gave him an appreciative glance for the saviour.

"Come if you wish to arrive in Rivendell before the food is removed." He instantly saw the Hobbits perk up at that sentence.

"So how long do you think it will take for Frodo to recover from that wound?" Sam asked the Elf.

"The wound itself should not take long to heal, since it was only small, but the affects might take a while. But not to worry it is not a big wound…" Glorfindel trailed off and his eyes widened.

"What's wrong?" Aragorn asked grabbing the hilt of his sword.

"I need to borrow your horse." Glorfindel said taking the reins from the Rangers hand and galloping off before he could utter a word of protest. "Make your way to Imladris my friends, I won't be long!"

The four looked at each other then carried on following Aragorn again. The worry of Glorfindel was in the Hobbits' minds for a few minutes until they started thinking of the feast again.

"What do you think they'll have?" Sam asked.

"Pheasant and pork and chicken and ham and lamb and mutton and…"

"MUSHROOMS!" Pippin interrupted, invoking laughter from his companions.

Meanwhile Glorfindel was panicking, how could he have forgotten about it? He should have remembered, the poor man could be dead by now. He was quite sure that he wasn't a spy, something struck him that he was more friend than foe. He just hoped that he could hold on a bit longer, it shouldn't take that long to get to him.

* * *

**Well there's chapter one of this story hope you like it.**


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Glorfindel arrived at the site where he hid the new man it was nightfall. He was surprised to see that it hadn't been tampered with, after all he had been in a hurry and hadn't had the time to hide him properly, the leaf pile stuck out like a sore thumb. He climbed off the horse and instinctively looked around, he knew there was no danger around, Orcs wouldn't dare come near Rivendell, not without a higher power leading them anyway, and the Wraiths were temporarily out of action since they had lost their ride. He gently walked over to where the pile was then started shuffling the leaves and twigs off the body he had hidden there. He was still unconscious; he guessed he would be like that for a while with the wounds he had sustained and the height he had fallen. He was surprised that he had survived this long.

The Golden-haired Elf gently wrapped his arms around the man's legs and upper back and carried him to the borrowed horse. Aragorn wouldn't be very happy with him, but what else could he do? Asfaloth was in Rivendell he couldn't run here; it would take thrice the time it took him on horseback. He lifted the man on to the saddle then leapt up himself, sitting behind so his arms would hold him in place while they held the reins. Once he turned the horse he told him to run to Rivendell which he did almost gleefully. Glorfindel couldn't blame him, most animals loved it in Rivendell, it was a most beautiful city.

"Don't worry my friend, I'll get you back soon, you will be in good hands at the healing houses. Lord Elrond will see to that." He said to the back of his unconscious companion.

It was late when he arrived back at the Ford of Bruinen but it wouldn't take long now, maybe another couple of hours to get into Imladris. He briefly dismounted to dip his hands into the cool water of the Bruinen and take a drink; He found a wineskin hanging from the saddle of the horse he had borrowed. He unhooked it then popped the top off and ran it under his nose, he recoiled.

"Aragorn, you do enjoy your strong liquor." He said as he tipped it on the ground. Once empty he knelt on the ground and filled it with water then took it over to the man. He poured a bit on his finger and rubbed it on the man's lips. He drank a bit taking nice mouthfuls of the fresh water, once satisfied he slowly poured some in the mouth of the long brown haired man, while holding his head back with his other hand to ensure he didn't choke on the alcohol smelling water.

"Coiasira an' auta." He said to the horse before hopping back on. Once he was on and settled the horse galloped off up the path leading to Rivendell.

* * *

He was glad to be back in Rivendell, to see the beauty of the city and to relax and have a decent meal. But looking forward he could see he wouldn't have chance to relax just yet as a very frustrated Aragorn was standing there, a perturbed look on his face. Glorfindel dismounted and looked over to the rather annoyed Ranger. To any passing Elf it would look like a father was going to give a kid a bollocking. And Glorfindel looked like the kid; such was the look on his face. As he approached he gave an apologetic shrug.

"How did you know I didn't have anything valuable on my horse?"

"I was not going to sell him; I just needed to borrow him."

"A little bit more warning might have been sufficient."

Although Glorfindel was an Elf-Lord and one of the most revered, he still knew not to get Aragorn frustrated over his horse; he could prove to be very difficult.

"I apologise, my friend, but there was an urgent matter I needed to attend to." He said simply.

"That was my horse!"

"I did ask if I could borrow him."

"After you were galloping off on him you did."

"No, I asked just before I galloped off on him."

"You still didn't wait! What if I said no?"

"I would have ridden him anyway."

"I could have taken off the saddle."

"I ride bareback."

"I would have removed the reins."

"I don't need them, horses understand Elvish well."

"I could have told him to stay."

"He would obey me."

"You are enjoying this aren't you?"

"Yes, my friend, because no matter what you say; you cannot win."

A couple of Elves had stopped to watch the Dunédain and the Elf-lord compete with wide smiles on their faces. The competition ended with Glorfindel and Aragorn laughing and embracing.

"So what was the urgent matter you needed to attend to?" Aragorn asked, Glorfindel gestured towards the Ranger's horse.

"There was a man I saw fall from the woods before I met you. He was badly injured and he needed stitches, he has been unconscious since I found him." The Ranger paced over to the horse and looked at the man. He could see where the bandage was since some was showing above the tunic that Glorfindel had lent him.

"Where did you find him?" He asked, turning to the Elf.

"I will tell you soon; this is a matter I believe Mithrandir and Lord Elrond need to hear." Aragorn looked anxiously at his friend, and then nodded.

"I understand, my friend. Come, we must get him to the Healing Houses."

"That's where I was taking him."

Glorfindel called for a stretcher to be sent then gently lifted the man from the horse with Aragorn's help. Another Elf came and led the horse to the stables. After a couple of minutes two Elves came down bearing a stretcher. They laid it down next to the injured man then gently lifted him on. When satisfied they lifted the stretcher and made their way rapidly to the Healing Houses with Aragorn and Glorfindel in toe.

Once in the Houses of Healing Voldan was lifted from the stretcher and placed in a bed, Aragorn and Glorfindel walked away as a couple of Elves undressed the man and removed the bandages that The Elf-Lord had put on him. They assessed the wounds, both of them shaking their heads, both in awe at how the man had survived such a horrible injury; they could tell from just a glance that the wound was deep. They also noticed that his leg had been broken, Glorfindel hadn't noticed it before. They took hold of his leg then with a twist and shove put the bone back in place. They then put fresh bandages on and clothed him in a long white tunic. After he was re-clothed, they pulled a duvet over him and let him rest.

* * *

Elrond and Gandalf met with Aragorn and Glorfindel outside the Healing House. Elrond was wearing a long maroon tunic with green trousers and a white shawl draped about his shoulders. Gandalf was wearing his grey robes but was lacking his hat.

"Greetings, Glorfindel."

"My Lord, pleased to see you." Glorfindel replied bowing low then turned to Gandalf, "Good day, Mithrandir."

"Good day, Glorfindel, my friend." Said Gandalf returning the bow given to him.

"Aragorn, pleased to see you are well." Elrond said; he had evidently not seen him since he arrived.

"Greetings, Lord Elrond, I am glad you are well." He said with a bow. "Gandalf my friend, how are you?"

"I am well, Aragorn, thank you."

"I have heard there is a new patient in the Healing House, and it is said he is not from this city."

"Both are true, Elrond." Glorfindel said, "I found him in the forest, but it is a matter I would rather discuss with you all in private." He looked at the three individually. Elrond nodded his approval, sensing there was something his friend was worried about. He motioned forward, gesturing for them to walk in the specified direction.

"We will talk in my study." Elrond said; they were the only words uttered while they walked. They stopped outside the head Elf's study, who motioned for the others to move in first. He went in last ensuring that he could shut the door so they could have some privacy. Elrond turned to see his guests standing above chairs waiting for Elrond to move behind his desk and sit down. Once they were all seated, they sat in comparative silence until Elrond broke it.

"So what is the matter that you wish to discuss, Glorfindel?"

"It concerns the new patient in the Healing Houses. It is about the nature of my discovery of him."

"What do you mean?" Gandalf asked.

"It was when I was searching for Aragorn and the Hobbits, I saw a man falling through the trees above me."

"You mean to say he fell out of a tree?" Aragorn asked.

"I could be wrong, but I was sure that I saw him falling above the trees."

"But how is that possible?" Elrond asked; a confused look on his face.

"Perhaps one of the Eagles carried him over?" Gandalf suggested, but knew it was a bad suggestion.

"That is the thought that I had when I first saw him, but there had been no Eagles in sight."

"Then how? He could not have flown; it would have been an impossible feat."

"Again, that is what I thought." Glorfindel said, just as confused as the others.

"What of his wounds?"

"It looked to me as though he had been in a battle; he was bearing a large wound that cut deeply across his chest, a wound that looked to have been inflicted by sword or axe."

"If he had been a battle how could he have been in the air?"

"Or if not, then with that sort of wound, how did he manage to climb a tree?"

"I do not know, but as I say, I swear he was above the tree canopy when he fell."

"We must acquire this information from him when he awakes, only he can answer these questions."

"Is there any chance that he could be a spy of the Dark Lord?" Gandalf asked.

"It could be possible, but the chances are very slim."

"What makes you so sure?" Elrond enquired.

"If he was a spy, he would be armed. He was unarmed when I found him."

"He could have left his weapons in the tree or hidden them on the ground." Aragorn stated.

"I checked for them above and below and there were no weapons. Also he didn't seem like the spy type."

"Remember Glorfindel," Elrond said, "looks are not always how they appear."

"I know, Elrond, I am usually good at detecting my enemies, but he didn't seem like one of them."

"Well, like I said, we must wait until he recovers to gather any information." Elrond stated. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss, Glorfindel?" The golden-haired Elf and shook his head, "Aragorn?" Another shake, "I think that is all gentlemen, we can discuss this no further until he awakes." They all rose, then bowed to one another and departed.

* * *

Pippin was for once full; the meal the Elves had done for them was delicious and gratifying. He had eaten the most of the lot: Aragorn, Merry and Sam, leaving the serving Elves flabbergasted at the amount the small Hobbit could eat. They thought he would never stop. They believed it that much that they warned the chef to be ready to serve more food.

"That meal was delicious."

"I couldn't guess the amount you put away." Sam retorted.

"What? I was hungry, the food was nice. There was plenty of it."

"With the amount you were eating, Pip, I didn't think there would be enough for the rest of the Elves."

"Of course there would be, they'll have plenty stacked away in the store rooms."

"How do you know, they might have just wanted to put on a nice display." Merry said, lighting a pipe.

"No, I think that their store rooms will be full to the point of bursting with food."

"You might be right." Gandalf said, popping his head around the window of their room and startling the three Hobbits.

"How is Frodo?" Sam asked.

"He is on the mend, and recovering quickly; another day and he might be ready to wake up." Sam's and the other Hobbit's faces lit up, apart from the news of a feast that was the best news they had all day.

"I hope you're right Gandalf, he's bin asleep for nearly two days, and I can't wait 'til he wakes up."

"You will just have to be patient with him, he will wake up soon."

"What time is the feast tonight?" Pippin asked changing the subject and earning a chorus of groans from the three with him. "What?"

"Can you think of nothing else other than food?" Merry asked teasingly.

"Yes, I can, I can think of a lot of things other than food for your information." Pippin stood up proudly, hands on hips, and then slumped again, "but I'm hungry though."

"You're always hungry." Sam scolded.

"I can't help it."

"Hobbits truly are a wonder, for such small stature, they can eat enough to fill an army, and that's each." Elrond said, standing in the doorway. Gandalf, who had now came in their room and sat with them, and the Hobbits jumped up upon hearing Elrond's voice. "Sit, sit, I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation, I was just passing by." He said starting to walk off. "Oh, and in answer to your earlier question, Master Took, dinner will be served at seven O'clock prompt, good day."

"Good day!" They replied, then Pippin groaned.

"Four whole hours until dinner." He humph'd and held his growling stomach.

"Is there anything we can do Gandalf to take Pip's mind off his appetite?"

"Yes, indeed there is plenty for you to do. Rivendell is a big city, go and explore, just be back here for your dinner at seven sharp otherwise you will go hungry tonight." They all looked morose at the thought of going to bed tonight without their dinner. They all walked out of the room, Gandalf at the rear making sure they were all going, the last thing he wanted was for the Hobbits to keep worrying about Frodo, they may all seem like they are alright, but he knew that deep inside they were being eaten away by worry. This should take their minds off Frodo for a while.

"There is a beautiful pond the other side of this field, you should go and find it, I have heard that there are some delicious berries round the pond." He knew he would get the reaction he was expecting, the Hobbits would never turn down food, especially Pippin.

"Where do we go?" Sam asked.

"Now that is for you to find out, what fun is exploring if you are given directions?"

"Can you just point us in the general direction, Gandalf?" Merry asked.

"Oh, alright, Meriadoc, it's north from here." Gandalf said in exasperation.

"Great let's go!" Pippin exclaimed, trotting off.

"Peregrin, that is west, north is that way." Gandalf said in a tone used as if talking to a dumb child, pointing northward.

"Ah yes, I knew that, I just… saw something over there. Come on then, let's find those berries." This time he walked off the in the right direction. Sam and Merry

looked at each other before trailing after the eager Hobbit.

Gandalf watched them for several minutes before heading back to the Healing Houses to check on Frodo, he also wanted a look at this new man who Glorfindel had told him about. If he was a spy to the Dark Lord, then there would be certain markings that proved it.

As he walked up he saw something out of the corner of his eye, the twins, Elladan and Elrohir, were play fighting again. It happened on a regular basis, they would train and that training would turn into a session of rolling around the ground trying to pin each other down or get each other in various locks, some they made up themselves. The elderly wizard shook his head and continued up the stairs to check on his young friend.

* * *

An Elf maid ran out of the Healing House looking for anyone who was of high authority as a healer, she didn't know how to deal with this situation, it was out of her skill, plus he scared her, he hadn't done anything threatening but the amount of scars he carried and the build of his body gave her the impression that he was a soldierly brute and if he was angry, she wouldn't be able to restrain him. The first person she saw, or rather ran into was Aragorn. He let out a gasp as she ran into him, but luckily he was able to stay on his feet.

"What is the problem, who are you running from?" Then he realised where it was that she was running from and his eyes widened. "Is it Frodo?"

"No," she said timidly, and slightly breathlessly, "it's the new man, he is waking up."

"Ah, you go and tell Lord Elrond, he was in his study the time I saw him." He stepped around the young Elf then ran up the steps towards the Healing Houses.

The young Elf maid resumed rushing down the steps, trying to look as calm and eloquent as she could. She dodged around other elves and only just missed taking down Glorfindel. She carried on running until she realised who was with Glorfindel, the maid clumsily came to a quick stop, sliding and making smaller steps finally jumping 180 degrees then ran back to the two high Elves who were looking incredulously at her.

"You must come to the Healing Houses quickly, the man is waking up." Glorfindel and Elrond looked at each other then back to the maid.

"Please repeat yourself, Melaromë, we couldn't understand, you spoke too fast." And indeed she did, if there was a speed gauge for how fast she said that sentence it would have broke.

"It's the man in the Healing House, he is waking."

"The man?" Elrond asked, and then realisation struck, "the man! We must go." All three of them set off up towards the Houses of Healing. This time the maid was walking with a bit more decorum now that she was with Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel, though she was still walking at a fast pace and still nearly bowled people over by walking into them. Elrond just shook his head at the Elfling and smiled. When they arrived at the Healing Houses they met Gandalf just about to enter the doorway.

"Master Elrond, you have come to check on Frodo as well?" He asked stepping out of the way to allow the Elf-Lords in first.

"No, I'm afraid we have not, Melaromë has just informed us that the édain Glorfindel found has awakened."

"Ah, that is good news, now we can find out the information about him." Gandalf said gesturing to Elrond to enter first, who nodded his appreciation and entered. When they were all inside they looked at the bed where the man had been laying, he was now sitting on the bed facing them, rubbing his wound and looking at Frodo with concern in his tired eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Voldan's head was thumping, but that wasn't the least of his worries. His leg was braced, ribs wrapped and he could feel the wound that seared through his chest from shoulder to hip every time he breathed. His arm was also in a sling which rendered his moving lower still. He had a vague memory of the happenings that gave these wounds to him, but all he could remember was falling off that ship. He couldn't recall hitting the ground though, somewhere half way down he blacked-out, if that is what it can be called. It was as if the air had suddenly vanished and everything inside his body was imploding. It was a brief but horrid experience, and one he wished he would never go through again, before he fell unconscious, and now he was somewhere that looked nothing like the sandy-coloured stone buildings of Helion Prime. As he looked around he could see the white marble-like stone pillars holding up a roof of the same material that had beautiful flower like patterns inscribed on the dome-shaped walls that made up the ceiling.

Looking around he could see a number of empty beds all made with the same cream silk sheets, pillows and quilts. But in the bed next to him was a small child with black hair that looked like he had been in the wars, but he was surely too young to be fighting in any war, to him he only looked about ten years old, so he had either been recruited early or had been in a village that had been attacked, but if this was a hospital, or what passed to be a hospital, it certainly smelled like one, then why wasn't there more patients in the beds if that had been the case.

He tried to sit up, a feat that sounded incredibly easy but with the wounds that he had sustained it turned into a near impossible manoeuvre since the axe that the Lord Marshal used on him had cut more or less through his abdominal muscles. The pain from that movement was unexplainable, almost too much to bear. After he managed to sit up and swing his legs round he looked over to the young boy that was lying in the bed, his skin pale and his arm in a sling, a bandage covering his shoulder. He felt his free arm move to his chest, touching his wound, but he did nothing to stop himself, he was too concerned with the welfare of the young lad in front of him. 'What's happened to him?' He thought although looking at the shape of the blood that had seeped through to his bandage told him that it was a stab wound.

"Who would want to stab a kid?" He said out loud.

He could hear voices outside the doorway, though he couldn't make out what they were saying, which was strange because he would normally be able to hear as if they were right next to him, super senses and all. He must have hit his head or something, or it may just be the ringing in his ears. Whatever it was it unnerved him slightly, but nothing unnerved him more than seeing a child laying in a hospital bed, looking to be just clinging to life, the memories of his own were too painful. He would never forgive that murdering bastard called Zhylaw, the Necro Lord Marshall, for taking his children away from him. He was still pondering over the nature of the young boy's wounds and going through the deaths of his children while cooking up the best way to get revenge when three people walked in. He didn't notice of course, he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to realise anyone walking past, he probably wouldn't even notice someone about to hit him.

"Ah you are awake." A distant voice announced, Voldan didn't look around, it sounded like it was outside.

"We have been waiting for you to wake from your unconscious state." Again Voldan thought it was outside. He didn't even realise that the room had darkened substantially.

* * *

Elrond was beginning to think that the man Glorfindel had saved was deaf. So was said Golden-haired Elf-Lord. They were all becoming mildly impatient, and Glorfindel wasn't used to being ignored.

"We save his life, and this is how he repays us, by not acknowledging our existence?" He murmured angrily.

"Something tells me that what you say isn't the case," Elrond said, realising the look on the young man, "He is looking at Frodo, but in his eyes he is a child. Nobody enjoys the sight of children in pain."

"Yes, but I think it goes deeper than that." Gandalf uttered, "looking upon the expression on his face, I would assume that he has bad memories concerning children being injured, possibly his own."

"Yes, I would agree with you Mithrandir, Glorfindel, once he comes to realise that we are here, he will show recognition for your actions."

"I was brash, Lord Elrond, I spoke out of turn, not considering the circumstances of his silence."

"I shall try to release him from the hold of his memory for the moment." Gandalf said as he stood straight not relying on his staff anymore, and bringing an unnatural darkness into the room, hoping to bring the young long haired man from his reverie. But it had no effect; he was so consumed in his thoughts that he was oblivious of anything else around him.

The two Eves looked at Gandalf sceptically, who just shrugged with an expression on his face that read 'well it usually works'. Melaromë kept to herself sitting next to Frodo and watching the fearsome man with the goatee, she was slightly leaning towards the doorway in a manner that said 'first sign of trouble and I'm gone'.

Seeing that the darkening the room trick had no effect on the entranced man, he spoke up.

"Young man, come back to us, listen to my command, you _will_ come out of your trance!" His voice was deep and booming and commanding, the floor and pillars and roof shook with noise, but there was still no reaction, there was more of a chance that it would have woke Frodo up more than this new man. But then said man turned his head in the direction of the three people in the doorway. There was a blank expression on his face. But still there was concern and sadness in his eyes. The expression changed however as realisation struck him and he shot up to stand to attention and bow to the evident high ranking men in front of him. He completely forgot about his injuries and as he stood he let out a gasp of pain and fell flat on his face, which also didn't do very good for his injuries.

Melaromë couldn't help a little giggle at seeing the fearsome man humiliate himself, but the grin was stifled with one stern look from Elrond. Glorfindel rushed over to help him up. Aragorn had just came in and seeing the injured man on the floor with Glorfindel at his side, rushed over to the opposite side and also guided the man to his feet. Together they led him back to his bed where they laid him down.

"I'm fine, all I need is this brace off my leg and I can walk."

"Young man, you will not be able to walk for some weeks yet, your lower leg bones and broken and your knee was dislocated." Elrond said in a commanding but sincere tone.

"I am fine, honestly."

"If you were healed, young man, you would have been able to stand then, but you did not, you collapsed, which is a clear sign that you are not healed." Said Gandalf, backing up the statement uttered by Elrond.

"Fine, but I must insist that I am put through physio everyday, I am not laying in bed all day everyday."

"We do not expect you too, my friend," Glorfindel said, "but as Lord Elrond said, you cannot walk yet, you must allow your wounds time to heal. And what is fizeeoh?"

Voldan looked from the blond haired man, to the two older men standing, to the other dark haired man standing at the other side of his bed. His glance flicked back to the older men, trying to decipher which was Lord Elrond, he chose the oldest looking man.

"Look Lord Elrond, I know you are trying to help me, but by tomorrow my wounds would have more or less healed, my leg may take two or three days at the most, but I will heal quickly, you may know a lot about healing, but you do not know my body." Voldan said, then looked back to Glorfindel, "and what is physio? The therapy that can get your body back in working order, please tell me you have physiotherapy here."

Gandalf looked blankly to the real Elrond then back to the young man while the Golden-haired Elf-Lord shrugged then looked to Aragorn who returned the gesture.

"Young man, I am not Lord Elrond, the man you see before you, who is also standing next to me is Lord Elrond." Voldan's cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment then looked to Lord Elrond.

"My apologies, my Lord, I kinda cocked up."

"I beg your pardon?" Elrond asked, shocked at the language, not that he entirely understood what 'cocked up' means. He chose the most likely meaning, "This is no time to think of chicken, or of fighting, we have urgent matters to discuss."

"What? What are you going on about? I didn't talk about chicken, although one would be very nice right about now."

"Stop talking about food, we have many questions concerning the nature of your arrival."

"What do you mean the nature of my arrival?" Voldan asked, confused. Glorfindel spoke up.

"It was I that found you, you had fallen through the tree canopy in the nearby forest."

"Well I don't remember that."

"No, I didn't expect that you would, you were dazed when I found you."

"Well wouldn't you be if you fell through trees?"

"Yes, but this is not about me. Like Lord Elrond said, we need to speak with you about the nature of your arrival. When I saw you falling, I daren't have believed my eyes, but it looked like you fell from above the trees."

"From above?"

"Yes, but we need to discover who you are and from whence you came."

"But that shall wait for another day," Lord Elrond iterated, "You must get some rest we will continue this discussion when you are better rested and recovered from your wounds." At that the two Elves walked out of the hospital like building leaving behind the Elf maid, the straggly haired man and the old man who relied on his large staff to keep him upright.

"So what do I call you then?" Voldan asked Aragorn.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What's your name, you must have a name."

"My name is none of your concern, but you may call me Strider."

"Strider? What kind of a name is that?"

"It's not, it was given to me by the people of the villages west of here."

"Okay, so you've got a nickname but you will not tell me your real name."

"As I said, my real name is not your concern."

"Right, whatever you say, pal. How about you, you must have a name."

"Well, maybe some manners would be sufficient for us to reveal our names." The old man said.

"Okay, please may I know your name?"

"I have many names."

"What! What the hell does that mean, does everyone speak in riddles around here? We've got Blondie telling me I was bloody levitating, Straggly, telling me he doesn't have a name, but he has a nickname, and you telling me you have many names! Who the hell are you? Mary Queen of Scots in disguise?" He turned on the Elf who's face went paler than her already pale skin, and was tempted to run out of the Healing House. Aragorn glowered at the man while Gandalf frowned and shook his head while bracing for the onslaught that was to come from Aragorn, so he was surprised when the Ranger held his temper.

"Straggly, Blondie? I hope for your sake that you do not mean Glorfindel and I. I can handle having names given to me if my appearance is one's source but do not allow Glorfindel hear you call him Blondie."

"Well he is, I mean his hair could probably make a blind man see again if the sun touched it."

"Glorfindel is an Elf-Lord, you shall show him respect when you are around him, if you do not wish to be killed on the spot."

"Ha! Do you think I am scared of an effeminate looking nonce waving a sword around thinking he is good."

"Believe me, Glorfindel has performed some feats that even you would consider amazing, so before you degrade him by using pathetic names, you may consider undertaking some research first!"

"Do not shout at me you bloody hobo!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, please will you keep your voices down, you are not the only patient in Lord Elrond's care, now I think it would be best if you, Strider, left, and you got some rest."

Voldan grunted then watched as the straggly haired man left the building, as soon as he left he flopped his head down.

"Five minutes in this place and I'm already making friends." He shook his head.

"Well maybe you should hold your tongue and think of something friendly say to say."

"Maybe you're right, old man, just maybe." Voldan chuckled then closed his eyes and drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

Gandalf shook his head then walked over to where Frodo was sleeping. He looked so peaceful, but he knew that down inside he was in pain, and forever will be with his wound. He hoped that he would wake up, but knew that he wouldn't do so until at least tomorrow. He briefly stared at the sleeping face of Frodo, a slight smile spread across his face. For now he was oblivious to all of the troubles of the world, he was tight in a dream, and wouldn't come out of it until his dream was over. The smile left Gandalf as he thought of what it would be like when Frodo did wake up. He would remember what had happened to him then be haunted from now until the day he dies by the memories of The Witch-Kings blade embedded in his shoulder.

"What happened to him?" A voice asked, making Gandalf jump slightly as he was pulled from his thoughts. He looked around to see who had spoken, but there was no one else in the room. He looked over to where the man lay on his bed and saw that he was looking in his direction, again a look of concern in his eyes.

"He was gravely wounded by a blade made by the Enemy."

"That is just terrible, who would hurt a child?" Gandalf was about to reply but then thought against it, he had better wait until they were in a meeting to reveal that Frodo was not a child, in fact he was 50 years old.

"The Enemy is ruthless; He will do whatever he deems fit to achieve his goal."

"And what is your enemy's goal, World domination?"

"In a sense, it is, yes."

"Ha, it always is with these bastards, they think they are better than everyone, they think that they have the right to dominate others."

"Well, most do not have the capability to do so, but our enemy is more than capable of ruling this world and killing all life that dares to oppose him."

"Must be powerful then, but no enemy is invulnerable."

"That is correct, but they can become so strong that they are near invulnerable."

"Invulnerability is a myth, everyone will die one way or another, the ones who think they are invulnerable are the ones that will die first." Then Voldan turned to face the ceiling.

"Your friend looks very peaceful."

"He is at the moment, but once he wakes up, I'm afraid he may never know peace again."

"Why is that? Is it because of your Enemy?"

"Yes, there are certain things that must happen for the world to know peace, but Frodo will never know of it again, this wound will never heal." Gandalf ruffled Frodo's hair affectionately then looked to Voldan. "I cannot speak to you in any more depth than that of our Enemy until we decipher who you are."

"I understand, honestly I do, I wouldn't trust me either; I mean I don't exactly look the trustworthy type do I."

"That was not what I meant. For the minute we are unsure whether you are in league with the Enemy or not, that is why we will wait until you healed so that you can attend a meeting to decipher your allegiance and who you are and from whence you originated."

"Right, I'm with you. But can you clarify one thing with me first?"

"What are you troubled with?"

"Can you tell me where I am?"

"All in good time, now you must rest. Elrond will not be best pleased if he found that I was keeping you awake when you needed time to heal."

"Sleep will not make my wounds heal faster, time will."

"It matters not; Master Elrond will still be upset with me if he learned of this."

"If you think I will sleep; then you are sorely mistaken, I will not sleep when my leg is braced and when I can hardly move."

"As well as your body being broken, it is fatigued also, that is why you need your rest, whatever you were doing before you arrived has worn your muscles and body to the point of failure."

"Okay, I will try my best to sleep, but I don't think I will be able to."

"I will go and see the healers and inquire about some potions to aid your sleeping."

"Thank you, you do me a great kindness, my friend, hopefully I will return the favour when my wounds are healed." Gandalf smiled and nodded then stood and walked out of the room to go to the healers store room. After all Elrond will not mind one potion going missing, it was for a good cause.

* * *

The three Hobbits had no idea what time it was, they passed a sun-dial a while ago and that read four O'clock, it must have been a couple of hours since then and they still hadn't found the pond. Each of them kept giving Pippin scathing glances. They were all becoming really hungry and their stomachs could have been heard from the Shire.

"This is your fault Pippin, never trust a Took with directions."

"Well I don't know where I'm going!"

"You said you did!"

"No I never, I might have mentioned that I had an inkling about where the pond was, I never said I knew."

"It sure sounded like you said you knew to me."

"We can't be lost, this is Rivendell after all."

"Oh, so if we are not lost, I take it we are just standing here scratching our heads because we are bored?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"I was just saying, this is Rivendell, we can't be lost in the land of the Elves."

"Well we are Merry!"

"What's wrong with you Sam? You have done nothing but complain all day."

"I'm hungry, I was looking forward to eating some berries, we are going to be late for lunch, I'm worried about Frodo and—"

"Strider's here!" Pippin interrupted. Sam and Merry turned around and saw in fact Aragorn was approaching riding a horse and leading three ponies.

"It looks like you are lost, my friends." He said chuckling.

"Yeah, and its Pippin's fault for thinking he knew where he was going."

"I didn't say I knew, all I said was I had an inkling I knew where the pond was."

"The pond? That is only over this hill. You were going the right way all the time, just didn't go far enough. Why has it taken you three so long to arrive here?"

"Blame Pippin, he was the one who lead us around in circles, thinking he could smell mushrooms around every tree."

"Well I could smell them!" Pippin said loudly defensively.

"Never mind about that, it is getting late, dinner will soon be ready to serve. Elrond sent me to collect you from your travels."

"Please tell me you know where you are going." Sam groaned.

"Please forgive me, Sam, but I am as much new here as you are, I found you by chance." Aragorn said, winking at the other two. Sam's groan covered their muffled laughter. The three Hobbits clambered on to a pony each then followed Strider on his horse. Luckily they didn't have to guide the ponies that much since they knew where they were going and they were following the horse in front, which made it easier for the Hobbits. Merry and pippin were still chuckling to themselves at Sam, whose face was a picture. He was still convinced that Strider had no clue where he was going, which made him even more miserable than when he was lost with the other two, at least they had an excuse. Hobbits didn't really travel around, but this man was a Ranger, he travelled all over the place, surely he should know his way around Rivendell.

"So how are we going to get to dinner in time if you don't know where you're going?" Sam asked Strider.

"With luck, Sam, we should stumble across Imladris sooner or later." Sam's face drooped even more, making the choked chuckles even louder from Merry and Pippin. Even Aragorn had a wide grin on his face. Sam was too gullible. It didn't take long on the back of the ponies, and horse, to arrive back to Imladris. Sam's face brightened up considerably when he saw the white walls and pillars of the palace. The thought that he could see Frodo brightened him up, but there was a bigger thought that wasn't just in Sam's mind, all of the Hobbits could smell the divine smell of food.

"Ah, it looks like we are just in time, gentlemen."

"I thought you didn't know where you were going?" Sam asked Aragorn sceptically.

"My dear Sam, I can navigate my way around Rivendell with my eyes closed and hands bound."

"Is that so?" A voice asked behind him. "I may take that as a challenge and I will take you up on it."

Aragorn turned round to see a smiling Glorfindel standing behind him. The Ranger's face flushed a little, although he wasn't bluffing, he probably could navigate his way around Rivendell with his eyes and hands bound.

Glorfindel gestured to the four. "Follow me if you will gentlemen."

The Elf-Lord led the four to their places at the table. The Hobbits were placed around Gandalf and Aragorn while the Elf-Lords and two younger dark-haired Elves sat around Elrond at the head of the table. The Hobbits recognised the younger elves as Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond.

Large serving plates were placed in the middle of the table holding various kinds of meats and vegetables, while alongside them were placed large jugs of various sauces and gravies. The Hobbits tucked in greedily, piling up their plates with all of the foods they liked, which was, more or less everything on the table. Again, the Elves were left in awe of how much the Half-lings could actually eat. Aragorn was eating slowly, and was careful to nudge Pippin, who was sitting to the left of him, to stop him from shovelling too much food into his mouth at once and to get him to eat slower and with more etiquette. Arwen, sitting opposite of her love smiled each time Aragorn nudged him.

Sam wasn't eating half as much as Merry and Pip were. Again he was left in awe of the beauty that was Arwen. The Elves up top were eating slowly and gracefully eating with the etiquette that was taught to them. Gandalf was also sitting up with Elrond and he was taking care not to let any food drip into his beard, or allow his beard to drop into his food. During the meal Elrond signalled to Melaromë, who approached then bent down to hear Elrond's hushed commands. Once Elrond had finished speaking she walked into the kitchens then five minutes later came out with a plate covered with a metal lid.

"Where do you think she's going with that?" Pippin asked Merry.

"I don't know, perhaps she is going to see that man who we saw earlier next to Frodo."

"Or she might be going to Frodo."

"He might be awake!"

"No Master Took, Frodo is not awake yet, the food is in fact going to the man you saw earlier, he is awake and still needs food." Elrond said, after his keen hearing heard the conversation between the two Hobbits. There was momentary silence, as everybody stopped eating at the thought of the Hobbit. Then the feast was resumed as the food was threatening to cool down.

* * *

Melaromë walked into the Healing House, nervous as always about the big man. She nearly dropped the platter at the scene that was before her.


	4. Chapter 4

The Elf-maid stood aghast in the doorway, her eyes not moving from the place they were fixed on. She was standing unblinking, shocked at the scene before her. Then another emotion took hold of her; worry. How was she going to tell Lord Elrond and Mithrandir? She didn't think she could even tell Glorfindel or even Aragorn, who had shown so much kindness in the past. She was tempted to pinch herself, or pour some cold water over her head, just to make sure she wasn't imaging the scene. She knew she had a very vivid imagination but this was definitely not a daydream; this was real, and now she was terrified. Melaromë walked over and put the platter down on the now empty bed. She looked around hoping to see him sitting on another bed. 'He might have moved; this bed might have been uncomfortable.' She thought and hoped. But looking around there was no sigh of him, only Frodo lying peacefully on his bed. There was only one thing she could do now, and that was to tell Lord Elrond.

She left the platter where it was and ran out of the room, as fast as her legs would take her. She bombed down the steps leading from the Healing Houses and made a beeline for the Dining Hall. She ran straight to Lord Elrond who seeing the look on her face stopped eating and waited for her to approach. She nearly forgot her etiquette as she entered. She made a quick and clumsy bow to Elrond and his guests then ran to her master and bent to his ear, but she spoke so loudly that everyone could hear her, and quite possibly half deafened Elrond too who grimaced as she spoke.

"The man," Melaromë said, panting with the shock, "He has disappeared."

"Disappeared, how?" Elrond asked, a frown appearing across his forehead.

"I know not, Lord, but he is not in his bed nor is he in the Room at all."

"We must find him, he is a danger to himself with his injuries, and may possibly pose a threat to others."

"Do you think he is a warrior?"

"Maybe, maybe not. But I do know that he will do whatever it takes to leave Rivendell."

"How can you be sure?" Erestor asked.

"He did not like being cared for, and he claimed to dislike, and I quote, 'being in bed all day, everyday.'"

"Where could he have gone?"

"I know not, but he will not have wandered far, his leg is braced and he is in pain when he moves."

"Yea, as I mentioned earlier, we must find him. Those of you who are finished will be the first to scout for him. The latter to finish will then go out and aid in the search."

Then, some of the Elves stood, bowed to Elrond and those at the top of the table and went off in search of the man, searching the roads, the fields and bushes but there were too few to look around the whole of the country. Even with calling for aid from resting Elves, there were too many places to hide within nature itself. The three Hobbits were also finished their meals, though they daren't help look for the man. They had seen him and to them he looked like a brute. How could three Hobbits stop a man of that size and strength, even if he was injured? They looked at each other, each shaking his head slightly indicating the same thoughts as the other. But all three of them felt eyes upon them and as they looked up they saw Elrond looking at them individually with a knowing smile gracing his features.

"You, I believe, have finished, gentlemen." He said. "Are you not going to help in the search?"

"Erm," Sam stuttered, "We don't think we can help, Lord Elrond, What can three Hobbits do against him, he looks like a warrior."

"Not to worry, my friends, he will not hurt you, besides, I will go with you." Aragorn said. The Hobbits glared at him, now not being able to get out of searching for the escapee.

The four of them stood from the table bowed then made there way down to the gardens.

"Do you think he could have moved far?" Pippin asked Strider.

"There is a chance, which depends on how long he left the Healing House. But I doubt he could have wandered far, as Lord Elrond said, his leg is braced."

"Does anyone know his name?" Merry asked.

"We know not, we have not had the time to interrogate him as of yet."

"Well, we can just call him cricket, if his leg is braced, he will hardly be able to walk." Pippin joked earning a chuckle from the other Hobbits and a smile from Aragorn.

They continued looking around the gardens, searching through every bush and examining every tree, but they had no luck finding him there. Then Strider found something on the floor that snatched his attention. It was a long piece of white silk. He knew it instantly. It was the sling that held the injured mans arm. He knelt down to pick it up.

"He has been here; we must be on the right tracks." Then he noticed footprints in the soft mood. "These prints are fresh; he is not far from here. Judging by the number of prints and the distance between them he has been hopping, which means he will not be moving at a great pace."

They carried on following the tracks leading them across the field. Aragorn occasionally stooped to examine a footprint and grunt his acknowledgement that they were following the right prints.

"Strider, how far do you think he has moved?"

"I doubt he has gone too much farther. His pace and the restriction of his movement will mean that he cannot move over too far a distance at once."

"Why has he tried to run away, if he was being looked after? Surely his wounds are too great for him to travel."

"They are, but he despises being looked after, he said so himself. But he may have tried to run for other reasons."

"What other reasons could there possibly be?" Merry asked. "Do you think he is a spy?"

"But how could he be a spy if the Elves are showing him such hospitality?"

"We know not whether he is a spy or not. We do not even know his name. Lord Elrond decreed that he was to be questioned about his being once he has recovered."

"Is that a reason why he has fled?"

"Possibly, but we will not know until we find him."

As they progressed on their hunt they saw an Elf coming towards them. They didn't need him to reduce the distance for them to identify that he was Glorfindel. The walk and the hair ensured that he was easily recognised.

"Have you found anything?" He asked as he closed the gap.

"Aye, we have found some tracks that lead across this field. We are just following it."

"Do they belong to our renegade?"

"We think so. The spacing between each footprint and the shape show that only one foot has touched the ground through the movements, the depth of the print shows that the person who laid these tracks was hopping."

"So they definitely belong to him then?"

"Yes, they cannot belong to anyone else. For no one else has an injury like his."

Suddenly Aragorn stopped in his tracks. The others followed suit. After looking around Glorfindel leaned into Aragorn.

"What can you see that my eyes cannot?"

"The tracks: they end here, at the bushes."

"He must have moved through the foliage."

"No, he has not. The branches show no sign of stress, the leaves have not been bent, the twigs unbroken."

"He may have been careful." Pippin suggested.

"Nay, that is untrue also. The man is too crippled to be careful, if he moved through, he would have left sign. No man can hop through bushes without breaking twigs." Glorfindel told the Hobbit.

"He must be hiding within the bushes." Aragorn said in a hushed tone.

* * *

Voldan couldn't stand it anymore. He hated just sitting around, or lying in his case, waiting for some one he didn't know to question him and then determine whether he could go free or not. He hated attention and he hated Doctors. There was no way he would lay around all day, everyday in a place he didn't know. He could tell just by the way people were dressed that this was the Middle Ages. And he also knew from experience what people in societies like that did to newcomers. There were planets around where the civilisations had no idea what technology was. This was evidently one of those planets. Unless he had gone back in time but he rejected that as a possibility. The problem was this seemed different, it seemed like it wasn't a new planet, but he certainly wasn't back in time. Something told him this place was different, maybe it was the means of his arrival here, but it seemed strange. That was another factor that induced his departure.

It took a lot of energy to do so, but he knew he had to. As he climbed out of bed, his whole body screamed at him to stop, the pain was unbearable and only pure willpower allowed him to keep going. Standing on one foot his braced leg outstretched in front of him he hopped from the room. The pace was painful, but his body hurt more. It was even worse when he tackled the steps hopping down each level with a grimace of pain. There were a couple of times that he nearly cried out, and only managed to stop himself by remembering that to do so would mean in his arrest, and being taken back to the hospital where the injured kid lay. He would then be put under house arrest and watched every day without a minute on his own. If he was honest, the main factor of his escape was the fact that the child was in the room. If he wasn't he might have been persuaded to stay and bear the attention, but the child raised too many memories of his own children, his two youngest missing, his eldest dead. The young boy reminded him of his own son, though they looked nothing alike.

The stairs were horrible on his wound across his abdomen, they didn't exactly help his broken leg either, but he suspected that they were the worst of the hardships he would have to face in order to fully escape. He was surprised at how little movement there was around the city, if that was what it was. He was doubly surprised at how he could move unnoticed. It wasn't long until he came to a field. He sighed as he thought of the effort it would take him to hop across it, especially if it was soggy. But when he started across he was surprised at how dry and even the ground was. But his foot still sank into the mud. The effort was drained from him by the time he reached the opposite end of the field and sought sanctuary in a hedgerow that bordered it. Now though, he was close to being found because of the other children he had seen visiting their obvious friend, the ones that always gave him fearful looks, one sometimes glowering at him as if to say 'stay away from my pal, pal.' Also there was Blondie and Straggly that also threatened to find him and with him being in the state he was in, he couldn't fight back against the inevitable arrest. Voldan was also annoyed that Straggly appeared to be a very good tracker, being able to follow his movements exactly, and now he was standing right in front of him. Luckily, though, he hadn't seen him.

"Did you say he is in one of the bushes?" One of the children asked. Voldan was reasonably surprised at how low his voice was. He looked ten yet his voice had broken, obviously puberty struck early in this place.

"Yes, he can be no where else unless he was able to grow wings and fly." The tracker said throwing a joking glance over to sun-boy.

"That is impossible. No man can sprout wings."

"Neither can an Elf." Straggly retorted. Voldan again was surprised, he expected Elves to be tiny little creatures, usually related to making toys. Even on Brilbane the story of Santa was alive, just not on the North Pole.

"Shall we separate to find him?" Another of the children asked, a slim brown haired child.

"There is no need, he is in these bushes here, as I said, it is not possible for him to move through the bushes without leaving trace, not in his condition." Voldan scowled, he knew Straggly was right, but he still didn't like being demoted.

The straggly haired man bent down and looked into the bushes.

"Ah, hello, we finally found you; we were worried you might injure yourself even more." On hearing Aragorn speaking the other four moved forward and also bent down to look into the bush. They could all see Voldan. There was a grunt from inside answering Aragorn. Then the bushes moved as the occupant stood, or tried to stand, causing Aragorn to help the man.

"I'm fine, just because I have this stupid bloody brace on my leg doesn't mean I need help."

"But you do; how you managed to make it down the steps we will never know. But you will cause more harm to yourself if you escape from the sanctuary of Rivendell." Voldan grunted.

"I can look after myself; I have lived out in the open before." He then turned and started hopping away only to be flanked by Aragorn and Glorfindel. He then started hopping faster, but Straggly, who's hair wasn't straggly anymore but the name fit, and Blondie increased their pace still keeping level. Again Voldan hopped faster and again he was flanked by the two, who weren't even walking quickly.

"You're not going to take me back, I am not lying in bed all day, everyday. It is not what I like to do." He sped up again, but again the two flanked him, still not even jogging. Seeing the hopelessness of it Voldan sighed and stopped.

"You are coming back with us, but do not worry, you are no prisoner of ours as of yet, once your wounds are healed you are free to leave as you wish, but only once you have answered some of our questions that are puzzling us."

"Well you could question me while I am recovering, then my mind can be put to rest so can yours and I will not be bored." The two looked at each other.

"We will have to ask Lord Elrond, it is his decision to wait until you are recovered."

"Good, thank you Straggly, Blondie, but one more question, Am I going to be watched all the time now?"

"No you will not, just the same as you were before, just to check that you are healing well." Aragorn answered, he looked over to Glorfindel who was looking angry at the new nickname.

"Blondie? Who is Blondie? I hope you are not referring to me. If you are then you can rest assured that the only reason why you are still standing is because you are injured. I do not attack the injured. But do not call me that again."

"Well I could have called you worse, believe me."

"Oh, I don't doubt it, though I have given you no cause to do so."

"I am not calling you it out of spite, simply because I do not know your names and you refuse to inform me of them."

"We will provide our names in the presence of Lord Elrond, until then you will not call us anything. But I have provided you a name to call me by." Aragorn said. "I told you that you were allowed to call me Strider, why do you not do so?"

"Because Straggly sounds so much better until I find out your real name." Aragorn clicked his tongue at the answer. Then with him bearing one side and Glorfindel the other they led him back up to the House of Healing. The Hobbits were close behind them, following nervously.

* * *

Back up in the Hospital the six were waiting for Elrond and Gandalf to arrive. Glorfindel had sent Melaromë down to the Dining Hall to call Lord Elrond and the Wizard up to the Hospital, and that they have managed to find the patient. They were planning to ask Elrond about the suggestion by the patient and whether it was a good decision or not. Aragorn certainly thought so, if it kept this man from reattempting tonight's escapade, then depending on the verdict that they found he could either go free or stay as a prisoner all depending on the thoughts of Lord Elrond and Gandalf. Also the Elf-Lord and the Ranger were curious as to why the man wanted to flee in the first place.

"Now that you are back in bed, where you should be, would mind in telling us why you tried to escape?"

"That is matters of my own concern."

"Have you something you wish to hide?"

"My reasons are my own, I don't have to nor do I want to explain myself to you."

"You will have to explain yourself to Lord Elrond, if you do not wish to be a prisoner."

"I will be no one's prisoner; I have too many things I need to do."

"If Lord Elrond sees fit to keep you prisoner he will, if he feels you are a threat."

"I am no threat to anyone here unless they threaten me; I will assure you of that."

"That is for Lord Elrond to decide."

"What is for Lord Elrond to decide?" Elrond asked as he and Gandalf walked through the doorway.

"We were discussing if we would consider him a threat to us."

"It will all depend on his actions and how he answers." Elrond said.

"I will be able to determine whether he is a threat through his answers, even if he does not say so."

"Ah, so you're some kind of Merlin-looking shrink?"

"Merlin-looking shrink? I don't know what one of those is, I don't know who this Merlin is either, but I can tell you I am not a Dwarf, I'm a bit too tall."

"No a Shrink is a psychiatrist, they help people that have troubles with and on the mind, they can also detect the problem and anything else they want through their patient's body language and their answers."

"Thank you for enlightening us."

"No problem."

"Now we must learn where you have come from and who you are. Gentlemen, if you do not mind leaving us?" He looked to the three Hobbits that were standing near Frodo's bed.

"Do we have to? Can we not learn who he is too?" Sam asked.

"No, we must have this discussion in private, no one but us is to learn of this mans past."

Once the Hobbits obediently but slowly waddled from the room, hoping to catch some of the questions and the answers. But Elrond was wise to their plan and waited until they were a safe distance away before he started the light interrogation. The all pulled up chairs and sat around the bed, sitting in semi-circle enclosing the interviewee. Voldan hated being enclosed, being trapped. It always made him nervous, no matter that the people enclosing him had friendly expressions on their faces.

"We will have the interrogation while you are resting. It is deemed to be easier, and seems like you will be inclined to stay out of trouble if we do."

"Yes," Gandalf said, "It will also lay our minds at ease to find who we are caring for."

"Okay, it'll also put my mind to rest since I will know where the Hell I am and who you are."

"Let us start easily and slowly. Please tell us your name and a little about yourself."

"Right well my name is Voldan, Voldan Galdro."

"And where are you from Voldan?"

"I am from a…Uh… Distant land, called Brilbane."

"Bril-bann? I have never heard of that land and I have been all around this world."

"It is hard to explain, and it is a long story."

"We have a long time to hear." Gandalf replied.

"Can I ask you a question? Can you please tell me who you are and where I am?"

"If you wish. I am Elrond, Lord of Rivendell."

"I am Gandalf, though I have other names. You may call me Gandalf. I am a wizard, Grey Wizard."

"I am Glorfindel and it was I that found you and tended your wounds. I am an Elf also, of Ñoldor decent."

"That is wasted on me; I don't know the races here. But thank you anyway for your help" Glorfindel looked at him sceptically then accepted the explanation as true then nodded his head to the gratitude.

"I am Strider, or you can call m by my real name, Aragorn, I am a Ranger."

"Currently you are in Middle-Earth, but more specifically are situated in the Palace of Imladris in the land of Rivendell." Elrond explained. "Now, tell us more about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

"Your age, from whence you came; also how you came to be in this world."

"Well, I am nearly 84 years old, as I said I come from Brilbane which is a distant land which I guess is in a different timescale or dimension, but is most definitely a different planet, unless there is a land inside Earth which we don't know about, which I doubt since we haven't heard of it, but nevertheless it is a different planet. I was born in the 26th century, year 2592. When I came here it was 27th century, year 2676."

"84 years of age? How is that possible are you a Dunédan?"

"Doonaydan? What the Hell's that?"

"Dunédan is a race of Men, we will elaborate on that in due time, but as Aragorn mentioned, how are you able to live for this long and not show any signs of aging?"

"My race, Brilbanians, can live in excess of 400 years."

"That may explain it."

"Do these Doonaydan live for long?"

"They can live for over 300 hundred years." Aragorn informed the Brilbanian.

"This world, Bril-bann, describe it."

"Well, I don't know where to begin. It was a beautiful planet, full of trees. Our forefathers made a truce during the war with the Natives, who tried to kick them off their land, when they arrived. They settled on allowing a 17 acre land radius plot where trees could be stripped down for cities which were built in towers instead of flat expanses and estates. My city was called Nelrarnah, it was one of the tallest of the cities, 16 levels in total with over a three million inhabitants. The actual planet was beautiful, full of life: flowers, trees, animals, birds. I miss it truly." Voldan could see the two Elves' eyes lighting up as the explanation wore on.

"You say was, past tense?" Aragorn asked.

"Yes, The bastard evil Lord Marshal all but destroyed our world."

"Destroyed?"

"Yes, the planet is still there, but it has lost its soul, even when, or if, everything grows back, it will never be the same again."

"Your Dark Lord destroyed your land?"

"Yes, I swore I would kill him for that." The others looked at one another, curiosity painted on their faces.

"And how did you come to be here?"

"I could not tell you that. All I can remember was fighting the Lord Marshal, or Dark Lord as you so aptly put it. I was then knocked off his ship and was falling through the air. The next thing I remember was waking up here."

"You feel into the ocean?" Glorfindel asked.

"What, Ocean? Oh, right, never mind."

"What was your occupation?" Aragorn asked.

"I was, well am, a soldier. General to be precise, I command or commanded the Nelrarnah Brigade."

"And one of the last questions, why did you try to escape?"

"That is a private matter that hurts too much to talk about."

"Why, what has happened, has something happened while you have been here?" Elrond asked looking to Gandalf then to Glorfindel.

"No, no nothing like that, just when I see that child over there, he reminds me of my son." Voldan fell silent, grief filling his eyes.

"I think we should inform you of some of the, beings, of Middle-Earth. Some are not what they seem. This 'child' you see before you is in fact an adult, the same as the other 'children' that have been at his bedside. They are all around 50 years old."

"Fifty? They don't look more than ten."

"He is 50, he is known as a Hobbit or a half-ling."

"So in normal terms he is a dwarf?"

"We had all better hope that they are not Dwarves." Gandalf said jokingly though Voldan looked blankly at him.

"In this world we also have Dwarves."

"Oh bloody hell, do you have Gnomes too?"

"I hope not. If we did, then there would not be any hope for us." Another blank look from Voldan.

"How did the Hobbit remind you of your son? Does he look like him?"

"No, he looks nothing like him, but just seeing him lying there, he looks like a boy the same age as my son."

"What happened to your son if you do not mind the question?"

"He was taken away from me a long with my youngest daughter, by the Necro lord Marshal, my eldest was killed by him." Voldan started to grow angry; the four members around him could visibly see his eyes growing darker and an unexplainable, uncontrollable fear started to churn in their guts. But as soon as they shaded they lightened up again. This made Gandalf and Elrond extremely suspicious, they had no thoughts that he was evil, but there was something he may be hiding, they would find out soon. There was also something very familiar with what he had just witnessed something he had read in Minas Tirith. He knew he would have to research it.

"That is all for today gentlemen. We shall discuss what you have told us then we shall produce a verdict on the information you have delivered. For now get some rest. Good day." Elrond stood and stooped his head as an informal bow, which replied by a salute from Voldan, the others did the same then left in single file, leaving him on his own in his bed next to the child that was now revealed to be a fully grown man. Voldan looked at the young looking 50 year old in wonder, then laid down and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

**That was Chapter 4 Hope you liked it **


	5. Chapter 5

Voldan awoke the next morning and felt greatly refreshed. There was no more pain in leg or arm, and more astonishing, none in his abdomen, until he tried to get up that is. He didn't do that yet though, he was far too comfortable where he was. He was just drifting off to sleep again when the all too familiar smell of tobacco flew to his nose. A great yearning arose in his stomach as he remembered the taste of tobacco and the smoke in the back of his mouth. He rarely smoked, but there were times when he longed for it, preferring to smoke either cigars or more preferable pipes as they retain more flavour of the tobacco. He looked over to where the smoke was coming from and saw the man called Gandalf sitting in a chair next to the child that was now revealed to be a fifty year old. Voldan looked at the supposed middle-aged man and sighed loudly in frustration, perhaps a little too loudly. 'This place is so confusing!' he thought.

When he looked over again, he saw that the elderly man sucking on the pipe was looking over at him with an amused look in his eyes, as if he knew what Voldan was frustrated about and then looked back at the Hobbit.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully. "You look well, well that may be an exaggeration but you are certainly looking better than yesterday."

"Why thank you, you look like a prince yourself." Voldan grunted, earning a slight chuckle from the Merlin wannabe.

"Now, now, sir, there is no need to be sarcastic, I was merely stating a simple fact." Gandalf said with a glint in his eye. Voldan grunted, then smiled faintly.

"I think I'll get these casts off today." Voldan said.

"That may not be possible; we will have to wait to see what the Lord of the House has to say about it first."

"Bugger that." Voldan said harshly, then to Gandalf's horror, started ripping into the cast with his teeth. Gandalf was too shocked to move and so could only watch as the man ravaged the bandage then started taking it off by his fingers. He expected the arm to be swollen and bruised still from the break, but remarkably there was not a mark in sight that revealed an injury there, save from scratch marks that Voldan was now inflicting as he writhed his skin for the irritation.

The Wizard was shocked at the sight before him, never before had he seen a Man heal from a broken bone as fast as this man lying in bed next to his friend. It was truly remarkable. Voldan felt the eyes upon him and looked over to see the elderly man looking at him, his jaw nearly touching the floor.

"I told you that I healed fast, but you wouldn't listen." Voldan said triumphantly.

"How is it possible? Is your other wound healed as well?" Gandalf asked.

"Well, I have the ability of healing quickly, its called regeneration, if you didn't know. Mine isn't on the scale of some peoples but it is quite fast, broken bones don't take long to heal." Voldan said. "My other wound should be healed within a couple of days. My leg is also healed though; I just can't reach down, not comfortably or painlessly anyway."

"I will get a maid to tend to you shortly." Gandalf promised, and then his head snapped round as a groan came from the other bed.

* * *

Meanwhile, Voldan was lost in thought, he knew there was something different about himself but he didn't know what, until now; he had lost his power. But how had he healed so fast if they were gone? Unless, oh shit, he thought, I've only lost my conscious power, not my subconscious. Voldan blanched as the realisation struck him, he remembered now what he felt when he was talking about his son. He couldn't believe that this could happen to him, his subconscious power can't be lost, for to lose them would be to die, they are the life-force of his being. But without his other powers or his pads he had no way of keeping them in check, which meant that he would become angrier easier but instead of his eyes glowing blue, they would turn black, his subconscious power would take over and those powers were much more destructive than his conscious. He was pulled from his worries as a strange voice emerged weakly from the other bed.

"Where am I and what is the time?" the voice asked

"In the House of Elrond, and it is ten o'clock in the morning." The wizard replied. "It is October the 24th if you want to know."

"Gandalf!" cried the Hobbit lying next to him.

"Yes, I am here, and you are lucky to be here, after everything you have done in the time since you left home."

Voldan was a little shocked, they had watches and clocks and other various timepieces here? He looked around but there were none. He looked sceptically at the wizard.

"How did you know it was ten o'clock? I can tell what time of day it is by looking at the sun but there is no sun to look at to judge from."

"I am a Wizard; I can do a great deal many things that you cannot." Gandalf replied. "Frodo, this is Voldan, Voldan may I introduce you to my old friend Frodo Baggins."

"Ah so you are the one I have heard so much about? Quite a little traveller, getting into fights with demons and the likes."

"I have told you no such thing!" Gandalf said angrily.

"You didn't need to; you talk so loudly I could have heard you from the moon." Gandalf grunted at the man's explanation, though now he had a close eye on him; if he had overheard that, what else had he heard.

"Greetings and yes I have had an eventful adventure, although it is one I would not like to complete again." Frodo said completely unaware of Gandalf's tone of voice, he reckoned that anyone the Elves would accept in their own home is an ally and therefore to be trusted enough to talk about adventures, though of nothing else. "Where's Sam? Are the others alright?"

"Yes, they are all safe and sound. Sam was here until about half an hour ago when I sent him off to get some rest."

"He has hardly left your bedside" Voldan supplemented.

"What happened at the Ford?" Frodo asked his friend.

"I shall leave you to talk in peace." Voldan said, thinking they would like some privacy. He grabbed his crutches and hopped from the room.

"You were lucky, you were starting to fade," Gandalf said, "a little while longer and you would have been beyond our help, but you have some strength in you, my dear Hobbit."

"You seem to know a lot already, I have not spoken of the Barrow. It was horrible at first, but then I found other things to think about. How do you know about it?"

"You have been talking in your sleep, and has not been hard to read your mind and examine your memories. But do not worry, for I think well of you and of the others."

"We would never have been able to come here if it wasn't for Strider, but we needed you."

"For that I apologise, I was delayed, which almost proved our failure."

"I wish you tell me what happened." Frodo pleaded.

"All in good time, you are under orders from Elrond to not worry about anything."

"But talking would stop me from being worried, also it is tiring and I am not tired."

"You will hear all you wish to know soon for we shall have a council, but for now all I shall say is I was held captive."

"You?"

"Yes I, Gandalf the Grey, there are many powers in this world, some are greater than I. But my time is coming; the Morgul-lord and his Black Riders have come forth."

"So you already knew of them?"

"Yes, also I spoke of them with you once, for they are the Ringwraiths that I mentioned. I knew not that they had left their dwelling until I left you in June, otherwise I would have fled with you immediately. But for the minute, we have been saved from disaster by Aragorn."

"Yes, it was him who saved us, yet I was afraid of him at first. Sam had never trusted him, not until we met Glorfindel at any rate."

"Yes, I know of Sam, he has no more doubts now."

"That is grand news, for Aragorn has become dear to me."

"Yes there are few men like Aragorn son of Arathorn, the race of kings over the sea is nearly at an end."

"You mean to say that he is one of the people of the Old Kings? I thought he was just a ranger."

"Only a Ranger?" Gandalf exclaimed, "My dear Frodo, that is exactly what the Rangers are, the last remnant of the great people, the Men of the West." Frodo shut his eyes then opened them again at length.

"I have been thinking, I cannot make the total up to October the 24th, it should be the 21st, and we reached the Ford at the 20th."

"You have reckoned more than what is good for you. How is your arm and shoulder now?"

"I don't know, I can't feel them at all, which I suppose is an improvement, at least it is not cold anymore."

"Good! Elrond has tended to you for days, ever since you were brought in."

"Days, I thought I had been here for one."

"Well, to be precise, four nights three days. The Elves brought you in on the night of the twentieth that is where you lost count. We have been very anxious of your recovery, and like Voldan said Sam has never left your side. Elrond is a master of healing. But held little hope, for I suspected that some of the dark knife was still inside you, but it could not be found until last night. It was buried deeply and working inwards when Elrond took it out."

Gandalf saw the worry on his friends face. "Not to worry, it's been melted."

"That is pleasing, but what would have happened if it had stayed in?"

"They had attempted to pierce your heart. Had it stayed in any longer you would have became alike to them, only weaker and under their dominion."

"Thank goodness I didn't realise the horrible danger." Frodo cried.

"It is a marvel you are alive, fortune or fate spared you that day. But come we shall speak of it no longer, you need your rest, if Elrond found I had been keeping his patient awake and filling him with worries he shall be angry, very angry indeed. Now sleep my good friend, for you are weak." As he finished Frodo lay down and as soon as his head touched the pillow he was fast asleep, as if some spell had taken him.

* * *

"Out like a light, eh?" Voldan asked popping his head round the corner.

"What? I thought you were giving us some privacy?" Gandalf's voice rose in anger.

"Well I was but I can't exactly go very far with this damned pot of my leg. Especially now since that nurse, maid, whatever she is wrapped a sling around my shoulder and ankle. Besides, how else am I to know where in Zhakbolür I am?"

"You should not be eavesdropping, besides if you couldn't go that far why didn't you stay in your bed, you were not invading the conversation. And what is Zhakbolür?"

Gandalf stood up, reached for his staff and hobbled from the room towards Voldan. "It is not a term I have heard before."

"Well I would be surprised if you did, it's my language, Brilbanian. Well that's what everybody thinks it is called, there are two dialects where I come from, Brilbanian is the native tongue and Dheieta is the new language, which I speak, but I may speak both from time to time. Brilbanian is good when angry." Gandalf linked his arm through Voldans and helped him down the steep winding steps from the Houses of Healing.

"So your land has two languages?"

"Yes."

"How will we know when you are speaking one tongue from another?"

"Well Brilbanian is more guttural, for instance, Djaklaborach, which means early rising, which will interpret to sunrise, and Zhakbolür is more elegant, take Iyanama, which also means sunrise. Well it actually translates to rising fire, but you get the gist."

"Hmm, you have a strange way of speaking."

"Some may say you do too, but I'm not complaining." Voldan replied with a mischievous look in his eyes.

"I am not complaining, I am just saying. To change the subject, I am taking you to see Lord Elrond, show him how your arm is healed."

"And my leg, don't forget the leg, I want this off tonight, I have an itch right at the back of my knee. It is proving to be quite irritating."

"He will doubtless order it removed anyway, just to check. So you say you have abilities."

"That is great and yes, well no, well yes. Ach it's hard to explain. I did until a short while ago."

"What happened for you to lose them?"

"I haven't a clue. All I know is their gone."

"Other than your regeneration what other abilities could you do?" Voldan caught the curiosity mixed with anxiety in his voice and nearly smiled, it was obvious why he was unsure, he was a wizard, obviously one of the good guys otherwise he would be dead by now, and this new man comes along and says he has powers too. It would be understandably hard to trust a man who claims to have powers when there is a major controversial secret around that could destroy the world. He decided to play it safe.

"Well, the only other ability I had was heightened senses really." Gandalf accepted the explanation, but Voldan could tell he was dubious.

They reached the bottom of the steps and Gandalf allowed Voldan time to rest a bit. He was exhausted.

"I didn't think your wound hurt you so much, if you had told me I would have guided you slower."

"Doesn't matter, it comes and it goes, it always gets worse as before it gets better."

"You should have told me, besides I thought you healed faster."

"I do, well I did until I lost the ability, for some reason this ability comes and goes. Sometimes when it is back I don't feel it, but other times it exhausts me to breathe."

"You shouldn't have came, you must rest you are not as strong as you think."

"I beg your pardon; I'm stronger than _you_ think. And I told you before; I am not staying in that room all day every day."

"You will not recover if you do not give your body time to heal"

"My body has survived more than this, albeit I had my abilities then, but it is no different then than it is now, just let me catch my breath and we will be on our way again."

They started off again at a slow pace, towards the palace where Elrond was busy in his study. It took them the best part of an hour to get to him, especially with the other flight of steps they had to climb in order to get there. Voldan was looking exhausted. Gandalf was about to ask whether he wanted to rest when a new burst of energy took him and the pain he was trying, but failing, to hide lifted from his face.

"Has your healing ability returned?"

"I think so, if it stayed for a full day now I would be healed the day after, I am nearly recovered now."

"We shall let Elrond give the diagnosis." Gandalf said. Soon after they were at Elrond's study. Voldan was amazed at how big the place was, he hadn't seen much of the land they called Rivendell, and the stonework was marvellous. As they walked in Elrond put down the quill he was holding and looked up from a large desk. Voldan had a quick look around and saw that the room was crammed with books. 'Not another bookworm' he thought, 'it's bad enough with Alzan.'

"Ah, Voldan, I didn't expect you would stay in one place too long, given your actions on previous nights, what may I help you with?"

"I was hoping to get this pot off, if you don't mind." Suddenly Voldan found how authoritative Elrond looked. What was it the old man said, oh yes; he is the Lord of this place after all.

"Has the pain receded?"

"Yes, it is healed now, thankfully."

"How can you be sure" It was only then that he noticed the pot had been removed from Voldan's arm. "Who removed the brace and splint on your arm?" He looked sceptically at Gandalf."

"I did." Voldan said. "I had an itch." Elrond could see from the scratch marks on his arm.

"How, you must have had help?"

"I did, from my teeth." Voldan grinned widely.

"Sit down and we shall take a look at your leg." As he did so, Elrond went to another room and returned with a long knife. He grazed it down the plaster; it hardly looked like it had cut until Elrond split it open with his fingers. Voldan looked quizzically up at Gandalf who smiled in return as if he knew what he was thinking: how could that have cut the plaster?

As the pot was removed, Elrond had a little feel around – while Voldan was fighting the overpowering urge to itch the back of his knee – and looked up amazed at the find; the bones were fully healed.

"I told you I heal fast."

"Indeed you do, it is amazing to see a Man heal so fast from such a wound. How is your stomach?"

"That pain comes and goes; ebbs and throbs, sometimes its worse; sometimes I don't feel it at all." He didn't mention that he had abilities; he would leave that news until later.

* * *

Theres chapter 5 sorry about the wait, had a mild case of writers block.


	6. Chapter 6

Elrond was still a bit in shock over how fast the newcomer had healed. It was only three days ago that the pot had been taken off the man's leg, yet he was walking around like nothing had happened. Every time Elrond saw him walking around or chasing after the Hobbits he had to remind himself that this was the man who, not a couple of days before, had been grievously injured. He was watching him now, play fighting with the three Hobbits. Frodo was up and about a bit but he wasn't taking part in anything too vigorous, he was still a bit too weak for that. Elrond could see the flickers of pain cross Voldan's face when he bent down too quickly, but they were few and far between to even notice them, it was only Elrond who picked it up since he was looking closely at the man. There was something about him, something that didn't add up. The fact that he had healed so quickly proved that he wasn't human. It was also clear that Gandalf knew something, but when he subtly tried to get the truth, Gandalf shrugged his shoulders in an effort to show that he was as much in the dark as himself. Elrond knew him too well, however, to be fooled by that gimmick, though he respected Gandalf's wish, considering it was the man's place to tell and he suspected Voldan would in good time once he trusted them enough. But how long could that take? Elrond needed to know if he was utterly trustworthy and who he exactly was before what needed to be done happened. Elrond would be too busy with the affair at hand to be worrying about people running around his own realm and who had the potential to cause trouble. But Elrond found that the newcomer, for all his scowling and grunting and quick anger, was easy to like. There was an air of easy leadership about him, an air not too much different from Aragorn. They were both natural leaders, they both could lead an outnumbered army to their deaths without so much as a backwards glance just as long as they went first. It was plain that the man had been through a lot of hardship through his life, and he did come across as cold, yet people around him couldn't help but like him after being there for a short amount of time. Elrond couldn't place what it was that made that happen, for he had started to like the newcomer too. It was obvious that the man had no idea that he made people feel like this, indeed, if he was told about it, he would probably laugh in the person's face. People were always uneasy around him at first. The hardness of his eyes, the strength of his body and the ice cold glare that could freeze a man's blood in a second could see to that, yet after a while of knowing him, after taking the time to talk with him one could see that he wasn't all ice and stone, but a gentle man who only shows his hardness in battle. Elrond couldn't help but let out a laugh for though he was obviously a formidable soldier, Voldan couldn't stand up against the combined attack of the three Hobbits. They were rolling around the ground until eventually the maids shouted that dinner was served, and, as usual, one would think that the Hobbits had just been told that someone was stealing their valuables, for they always ran to the tables faster than they had ever moved before. And it seemed that everyday they moved faster and faster for they always arrived at the table a good while before everyone else even though they were just entering the room.

"It won't be long until they leave an after-image." Elrond turned to see a sweat-covered Voldan standing amazed behind him.

"I agree, I don't even think Gandalf's magic can slow them down when there is food, but come, we had best take a seat before the Hobbits eat all of it." Elrond smiled, though he wasn't exactly sure he knew what Voldan meant by after image, and moved towards the table with Voldan close behind. As usual, everyone waited behind their seats while Elrond made himself comfortable and as usual, the four Hobbits, mainly Merry and Pippin, looked longingly at the platters of the luscious food and silently cursed Elrond for taking so long; it seemed to them that every evening, the Head Elf would take a smidgen longer to arrive at the table than the night before, and even that short amount of time made the Hobbits shuffle restlessly on their feet. Voldan moved to his customary position next to Sam who was seated opposite Frodo. Opposite Voldan was Pippin who was sat next to Merry. Both Voldan and Pippin were seated at the far end of the table. As Elrond moved to his seat he bade everyone to sit down then announced that they could, as the Hobbits would put it, tuck in. The four Hobbits grabbed greedily, piling their plates high before eating. Voldan was feeling ravenous too, but he restrained himself, he knew he had already made a bad impression on his hosts, so now he tried to remedy that with good table manners and as little swearing as possible. Everyone else on the table ate graciously, only putting enough on their plates and then once eating that, reaching for a second helping, but they always took their time in eating, taking care not to spill anything, whereas the Hobbits couldn't care less. It was only five minutes in to the meal and Pippin had spilt gravy all over the table, only pouring a fraction of the amount he wanted on the plate, the rest spilling over due to the mountainous size of the portion he had collected. He had knocked food off his plate so that it scattered all over the table. The peas were the worst. With every spoonful he would take he would lose half before it reached his mouth. Once they hit the table, the peas took it as their chance to escape, rolling endlessly around and stopping under everyone else's plate or bouncing on the floor. The other guests at the table could always hear the quiet hisses from Merry to Pippin telling him to calm down while eating and the giggles from the rest of them.

"Stop it! You're making a fool of yourself!" Merry would hiss and then try to restrain a chuckle that quivered at his lips. Voldan would always have a large grin on his face, not bothering to hide is joviality at the carelessness of the young Hobbit while the rest of the table would smile and shake their heads joyously before carrying on with their conversations. And it didn't matter how many times the people around the table - including Voldan - would watch the Hobbits eat their massive plate full's, they were always surprised when they reached for a second helping of the same amount. All, that is, for Frodo; after the previous events he never ate as much as he used to. He ate what was on his plate but even then, the look on his face portrayed that he only ate out of necessity, not out of want. He would sit glumly, smiling obediently at jokes and jests and sometimes joining into the conversations when there was something to be said, but the other times, he silently ate his food, his eyes always glancing around as if he was making sure that where he sat in the present company wasn't a dream. Voldan couldn't blame him; in fact, none of the present company could. He had been through a lot these past months, more than some could handle in a couple of years. Every now and then there would be a flicker of his old self, his eyes would brighten and he would laugh heartily, but then a memory of some sort would cross his mind and his face would revert back to the grimness. The only time he had shown his old self more or less fully was when he was around Bilbo. But most of their meetings were in private so that others couldn't eavesdrop on a conversation. Voldan looked solemnly at Frodo, he didn't know just how he acted before, but from everyone else's reactions to him it was clear that it wasn't like this. The dark-haired Hobbit caught the man's eye and a look of hostility and fear momentarily crossed his face. It passed quickly but it was there nonetheless, showing that the only people he would trust were the people who he knew closely, like the other Hobbits, the Wizard and the Ranger. He felt other eyes resting on him and looked down the table. He had been so consumed in his own thoughts that he didn't realise the Lord Elrond had spoken to him.

"Erm, I'm sorry, my Lord, could repeat yourself?" It was rare that Voldan called people 'my Lord' unless they were from his own planet, but there was no harm in being courteous every now and then. Elrond smiled at the man.

"I am wishing to know, if your wounds are fully healed?" It was clear that Elrond didn't need the answer but someone down table might have mentioned the newcomer, or the Head-Elf might have seen him looking at Frodo and knew what was going through his head.

"Yes, my Lord, I believe they are, there is the slight twinge every here and there, but nothing I can't handle." That gallant statement earned a smile from the guests at the table, most of whom knew that the clumsy gallantry was a charade to mask the pain. After all, his muscles had been virtually sheered.

"We are glad to hear it." Elrond said then fell into muted discussion with Gandalf and the other Elves once again. Aragorn looked and gave him a slight smile. It was clear that Voldan was not completely trusted yet, though this was a massive step up from being interrogated. Suddenly, Elrond spoke to the whole table.

"I am afraid we must cut dinner short tonight my friends, for we have a lot of things to talk about and decide upon." Elrond's eyes fell briefly on Voldan, and, knowing the implications of the glance, felt dread fall upon him.

…

To his surprise, Voldan wasn't the person of interest that night, instead when they retired; Elrond, Gandalf and the other high Elves, went to the Lord's study and there they stayed for the best part of the night. Voldan retired with the Hobbits; it seemed he had became an honorary Hobbit, for they never did anything or went anywhere without inviting him.

"What shall we do tonight?" Sam asked to nobody in particular.

"We could go for another wander." Pippin suggested. Merry groaned, knowing that when Pippin mentioned 'going for a wander', it was for the sole purpose of plucking berries from the pond-side bushes. "What?" Pippin asked in a hurt voice, "what's wrong with wandering?"

"There's nothing wrong with wandering Pip, but before long, there'll be no berries left to pluck." Pippin grinned, as did the other three. Frodo had livened up a bit since dinner, maybe because he felt more at home with the three Hobbits.

"We don't have to pick berries." Pippin said, his grin broadening.

"No, but you'll still find some way that takes us there, then you won't resist picking some." Sam supplemented.

"Well, if the walk takes us there, then why not pick them?" Pippin asked innocently.

"Maybe since they're not ours to pick?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"Never stopped us picking those mushrooms, did it?" Pippin said, earning a chuckle from Merry and Frodo.

"But those mushrooms weren't anyone's though were they?" Sam said, "They were growing free, like."

"Aye, but the carrots and p'tatoes weren't." Merry stated mischievously.

"Yea and Farmer Maggot chased us off that farm with his dogs."

"He seemed alright with us in the end." Pippin said defensively.

"Yes, because we bumped into him and he recognised us." Frodo said, then laughed at the memory. His laughter made the other Hobbits laugh, for it was so few and far between, that when he did laugh, it was infectious. Voldan was sitting quietly, smiling at the jokes being thrown around the Hobbits, happy that he could be a part of it.

"I wonder what Elrond and Gandalf are talking about." Merry muttered aloud.

"So do I."

"They're probably just playing chess or something." Voldan said nonchalantly.

"I don't really think Elrond plays chess." Pippin answered, cocking an eyebrow. There was a new mystery to be solved. Did Elrond play chess or not?

"He's certainly brainy enough." Sam said.

"Brainy people don't always play chess, Sam." Merry said.

"No but great strategists sometimes do." Voldan contradicted.

"Do you play chess?" Sam asked Voldan after a moment's silence.

"Badly, very badly, you could have me in check after a couple of moves." He said modestly. In fact, Voldan was good at chess, he had to be, for he was competitive and hated losing to Alzan, a father-like figure who could also be the oldest person from his home planet.

"I don't believe that for a second." Sam retorted, frowning in thought, "I believe you would be good at chess."

"And why do you assume that, my friend?" Voldan asked innocently.

"You have the look of a strategist, that's all." Merry said, looking the tall man up and down.

"I wouldn't know, for I have no idea what a strategist looks like." Voldan laughed. He looked out of the window, wishing that they would go for a wander, he could just eat some of those berries. Pippin looked at Voldan's wistful look and seemed to read his mind.

"So shall we go for wander then?"

"If we must." Merry said in a defeated tone. Pippin's face lit up, then jumped up out of the chair he was sitting on and ran out of the room as a child would when being told they could go play with a friend. Voldan waited for the others to leave before he did so himself. He stepped to the doorway, then stopped. A strange feeling came over him. He turned to face the window of the room and stared in the direction of Mordor, though he did not know it. He turned back, shrugged, and followed the Hobbits.

It was late when they arrived at the pond, but there was no need to worry, after all this was Rivendell, who could hurt you there? They lazed by the pond while Pippin was scoffing the berries. So was Merry, even though he was quick to protest about plucking them, he was eating about the same amount as Pippin. In fact all the Hobbits were eating berries. Granted, Sam and Frodo didn't eat the same amount, but they were all eating enough of them to make a second dinner. There was only Voldan who wasn't eating them, though he had a handful of them. The feeling he felt in the Hobbits' room hadn't left him. He tried to occupy his mind with other thoughts, even those thoughts that were liable to make him angry, such as thinking of the Lord Marshal or of Riddick or even of his home planet. But nothing he thought of, nothing he could think of could shake the persistent thought away, could bury the feelings. In fact, they only served to make them stronger, but he couldn't place it. What was it that demanded his attention. It was something that lay to the East. He had never felt anything like this before. It was worrying him, for he thought that he wouldn't be able to think of anything else until he found what it was that distracted him. And in an unknown world, to be distracted was the worst thing he could be, was the most dangerous thing he could be, for then he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. He would hope that his instinct, honed from years of fighting in battles, would tell him when danger was afoot, but he knew that was a fool's hope, for when one is distracted, one doesn't heed instinct, or anything else for that matter, there is only the burning desire to seek the thing that is distracting you. The four Hobbits saw the look on the man's face, and although they had only just met him, they liked him, all, that is, except Frodo, who didn't exactly dislike him, just didn't know him, and Sam of course who distrusted all of the big folk apart from Gandalf and the Elves. They were worried, for Voldan wasn't at all the biggest speaker in the world, but he would join in the conversations and could make them laugh, but on this night, and quite suddenly, he wouldn't speak at all. He just stared into space.

"Are you alright Voldan?" Merry asked, concerned.

"What? Yes, I'm fine, sorry I was just in a world of my own there."

"Ah, that's alright," Pippin said, "happens to me all the time."

"That's because you're never out of your own little world." Merry replied.

"Hey! There are times when I'm not." He said in a dejected tone.

"When you are eating doesn't count." Merry joked, earning a laugh from the small group. Voldan looked east again, the Hobbits looked at each other and shrugged helplessly, while in the study, plans were being made.


	7. Chapter 7

The night was peaceful, calm and quiet. Like every night in Imladris, nothing stirred. The birds were asleep, the mice, if there were any, pattered around without a sound. There were the sounds of crickets, but they were so distant that they were barely audible. Everyone slept in the House of Elrond, all but for one person. Voldan was tossing and turning in his bed; it wasn't that it was uncomfortable; indeed it was quite the opposite. Everything in Rivendell was perfect, the beds weren't lumpy and as soon as your head touched the pillow you were asleep. There could never be any complaints about the food either for even that was cooked to perfection, never over or under-cooked, and always brimming with flavour. It was neither the food nor the bed that was keeping him awake, nor was it the weather of the night that kept his eyes from shutting. It was the feeling he had had earlier that night. It hadn't left him and whenever he tried to think about something else, it came back with a vengeance, always occupying his mind, always crying out for his attention.

He didn't know what it was. The only way he could describe it was as if his heart was filled with a massive surge of lust for a hidden or unknown object. He wanted it so much; he needed it, he craved it, and more than that he craved for the plaguing feeling to leave him be. Something in the East was pulling him towards it, something was calling to him. He would have gone that night to put an end to the seemingly endless desire for the object but for the incessant warning that shouted at him, screamed at him not to go. That screaming was his instinct. He trusted his instinct, as all soldiers did, for it was instinct that kept him alive. If one didn't follow one's instinct then one was in deep shit, as Voldan would say. There had been many times that he had been saved by his instinct and he wasn't about to give up on it now. That was what was keeping him awake; the never ending turmoil inside the lower levels of his gut. It took all of his willpower and then some to stay inside the land of Elrond, for his body and mind were fighting to go to the source of the desire.

He rolled over so he could sleep on the other side, hoping that he could sleep on that side where he could not on the other. It was of no use. He was too awake from the turmoil in his head, his heart and his gut. He had the sudden urge to punch himself in the stomach; maybe that would stop the inner riots. But he knew that doing so would do one thing and one thing only, and that was keep him awake even longer for his abdominal muscles were still strengthening. He cursed his loss of power. If he had his powers then he would have been healed ages ago, but instead snippets of his advanced healing factor, the benefit of being a Brilbanian, kicked-in in fits and starts which was annoying. Maybe that was the source of his sleeplessness. He tried to console himself that it was, yet there was a niggling voice inside his head which told him that it wasn't, that screamed at him to stop being stupid and go to sleep.

The Brilbanian grunted as he got up out of bed. He sprawled out on the floor with his arms below him and started doing some press-ups, breathing in short hard breaths to regulate his breathing as he pushed his body weight off the ground. After every press he kept thinking that he was being stupid and should just go back to bed and sleep, yet he knew he couldn't. That was the start of another argument inside his body. He rolled his eyes at himself and kept pressing. He had lost count at a hundred, he guessed he was at a hundred and twenty five now, yet he couldn't be certain. Which started more turmoil in his head for he started thinking he had only reached one hundred and ten.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

He hissed angrily, then exasperatedly lifted his body up on his arms and swung his legs under him until he was lying on his back. He started performing sit-ups, doing them professionally and quickly. He grunted as he did each one, the newly re-knitted muscles in his stomach screaming out their protests at the exertion he was forcing upon them.

Why was it always him that this happened to? His planet had been raided by the blasted Necromongers; his family had been taken by the same bastards who ransacked his home world. Then years before, he had been taken prisoner and put in the torture chambers of the Neraptives of Vhamjorise in the Khamlimané System. He had endured 6 months of Hell before his best friend Davrun, had come to his rescue. Now, though, he had disappeared off the face of the universe, too. After the sacking of his home, Voldan had gone in search of his friends, found some of them dead, but Alzan and Davrun were missing as was Avriole. He had searched through the rubble, and even checked in the massive craters left behind by whatever weapons of mass destruction the Necro-freaks used to obliterate a planet.

He still wished to this day that he had been there at the time, been there with his own men from his own city and led them against the enemy battalions. Alzan had caught up with him on Helion Prime and told him all about it, told how his division had been a saving grace for much of the battle for they were stout and strong. Voldan knew they wouldn't let him down, he had trained them well, and they were renowned for their bravery and fighting skill. The Nelrarnah Division was ranked as one of the best fighting units in Brilbane. But still they fell. And now this, that bastard upstart little prat, someone who he quite possibly hated more than anyone else in this universe, had severely injured him.

Now, he was unable to leave this realm as he was too hurt. And to make matters worse, he couldn't sleep due to the stupid wanton desire he had in his gut! He flopped down on his back, wishing he hadn't for the sudden movement sent a spasm in his stomach, and sighed. Sweat glistened on his muscled chest, yet he still had no feeling of tiredness, only of the desire to find whatever it was that was keeping him awake. He had no idea how many sit-ups he had done, well over a hundred, he knew that. He guessed he had been going for nearly twenty minutes and in each minute, he was doing about twenty or twenty-five sit-ups. So by doing simple maths he decided that he performed between four and five hundred sit-ups.

He stood and picked up the robe the Elven maid had given him. He could never remember her name; he knew her only as the pretty one. He draped it about his shoulders then walked out of the door and headed towards the bridge. He walked slowly, there was no rush, he just paced, basking in the moonlight, listening to the soft silence of the night, allowing the reflected rays of the moonlight and the soft white lanterns light up the way on the road before him. He felt the breeze sift through his long, light-brown hair. He didn't fasten the robe, and therefore the light wind blew it open, so that from behind he looked like he was wearing a long cape that billowed in the wind. The sweat that had dripped from his chest in rivulets was dried by the breeze and already he had a feeling of peace. His mind was set at ease. The desire was still there, but being outside in the land of Rivendell suddenly bestowed a feeling of protection, as if the land itself could feel his turmoil and sought to calm it.

He reached the bridge. The sound of the water gushing beneath him was loud in his ears, yet oddly relaxing. He stood in the middle of the arched bridge and looked up at the stars. One star in particular caught his eye. It was brighter than the others. He stared skywards for a couple of minutes, then quite suddenly, turned, stripped off his robe and dived headfirst into the rushing river. It was as if he was compelled to do it, the urge had been so sudden and so strong that he had no chance of fighting it. Although he wouldn't have done so anyway, for it was a warm urge, and not the sickening cold urges that come from the lowest regions of the gut which tell you what you must do. When Voldan's head popped up he was in a vast pool, cold yet pleasant, he swam around a bit, letting the cool water ripple throughout his body, cleansing it in a sense. Once he was finished, he pulled himself up on the bank then slept a deep, dreamless, undisturbed sleep.

While back at the bridge, a figure turned away, teeth glowing bright in the night, betraying the large grin it bore, then walked towards his own chamber, his work for the evening done.

* * *

**Sorry about the wait people mind has decided to freeze recently.**


End file.
